Lightning Always Strikes Twice
by TheRedDragoon
Summary: Hiccup wasn't sure how it was possible to have such a bad day. Fail to shoot down a Night fury? Check. Get chased by a Monstrous Nightmare? Check. Forced to help maintain the Kill Ring as punishment? Double Check. Movie-Deviation
1. Author Notes

**Lightning Always Strikes Twice**

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Author Notes

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If you want to jump right into the story hit that next button right now. If, on the other hand, you are curious about extra information, disclaimers, etc., stay right here on this page.

**-Update February 21st, 2014-**

This story is coming along and I decided to update these author notes. Not with a bunch of information, but the old notes - which can be view on my profile page - were not really relevant anymore.

As the story nears its conclusion in my writing (the updates still have a way to go - we're not even half way yet folks) some things have change drastically from my first impressions. First off, the romance ended up playing a much larger point than I expected it to. This is hardly a romantic story, but there is love to be found within - even if it's the really-slow, burning kind that twists, turns and makes you wildly impatient. If you want to know the pairing, you must read further as I will not discuss it here. That said, if you dislike romantic stories do not fret, it's not the focus of the plot. It just ended up playing a larger role than I expected.

I would like to note that people upset by the twist in the ninth chapter would be wise to continue on.

Also, there is a very controversial, in my opinion, reveal coming up in the tenth chapter that I'm curious to see peoples opinions of.

**-Release Rate-**

The current plan is still to update this story once a week, but the release for chapter might slip back into Saturday. If you feel strongly one way or anthoer please let me know though PM or review. But I cannot make any promises. Also, I am a Graduate Student and real life may prevent me from updating every now and then. Therefore, I reserve the right to not feel obligated to publish a chapter every Friday/Saturday, but will try my hardest to meet the deadline.

**-Picture-**

The cover picture is a cropped and lightly modified picture from the original created by InuKura on deviant art. Please see deviantart com / art / A-Monstrous-Nightmare-376263279 for the original. If you get the time you should definitely check out their work.

**-Quotes-**

Prologue - _"My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes."_

Credit to L.M. Montgomery

Chapter 1 - _"It was the possibility of darkness that made the day seem so bright."_

Credit to Stephen King

Chapter 2 - _"I have learned all kinds of things from my many mistakes. The one thing I never learn is to stop making them."_

Credit to Joe Abercrombie

Chapter 3 - _"I really like it when a bad dream doesn't scare you...it inspires you instead."_

Credit to Fwan Storm

Chapter 4 - _"It is in your moments of decision that your destiny is shaped."_

Credit to Tony Robbins

Chapter 5 - _"Not every puzzle is intended to be solved. Some are in place to test your limits. Others are, in fact, not puzzles at all..."_

Credit to Vera Nazarian

Chapter 6 - _"The language of friendship is not words but meanings."_

Credit to Henry David Thoreau

Chapter 7 – _"Sometimes it's the same moments that take your breath away that breathe purpose and love back into your life."_

Credit to Steve Maraboli

Chapter 8 - _"Stars, hide your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires."_

Credit to William Shakespeare

Chapter 9 - _"I like the dreams of the future better than the history of the past."_

Credit to Thomas Jefferson

Chapter 10 - _"Peel away the layers and glance beneath the lies for there is always more to it than meets the eyes."_

Credit to Myself

…

**-Disclaimer-**

I own nothing of How To Train Your Dragon or any of the associated rights. This work was done for enjoyment purposes only with no monetary value obtained in anyway. If anyone wished to use the ideas, including original characters or quotes, here within they are legally allowed to; no copyrights or protection exist for this story. Although, this author would greatly appreciate a nod if his ideas are used elsewhere.


	2. Prologue

**Lightning**** Always Strikes Twice**

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Prologue

_"My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes."_

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My hometown is Berk. It's situated far to the north on a small island. Here, it snows nine months of the year and hails the other three. The mountains are razor-sharp, the food is hard and often tasteless; the farming is close to impossible. We have lived here for seven generations, but the buildings are all new. It's a tough life, but we are tougher. We are Vikings, and we wouldn't have it any other way.

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III is my name. Not the best name, but far from the worst. And it helps scare off the gnomes and trolls. Sadly, it's the rest of me that constitutes as a failure. At least according to my dad. You see, I'm not the biggest, nor the tallest Viking. I'm not even the strongest Viking. Quite the opposite, unfortunately. I do have a brain larger than an acorn, but intelligence does not mean much around here. No, here it's all about the pests. While other places may have mice or bugs, we have dragons.

Fire-breathing, acid-spewing, winged, clawed monsters. At least, it keeps life interesting. Dragon slaying is everything in Berk. It determines who you are, what girl you can get, where you live and the weight of your opinion. The more you kill the higher up the social ladder you are. Vikings are not complicated creatures.

Around these parts, we typically get a few different types of the beasts. The first is the Terrible Terror. Not too impressive at first glance but they are not to be underestimated. Their speed, accuracy with fire, and pack hunting mentality make them a dangerous adversary. Killing one of them would at least get me noticed.

Then there is the Deadly Nadder. Birdlike and colorful, this dragon has extremely hot fire and even worse, poisonous spines that it launches from its tail. They're fast, dangerous, and great company for a Vikings axe. With one of their heads, I wouldn't be such a failure.

Gronckles are sturdy and tough. Due to their bee-like wings they can fly in any direction making their movement, while slow, unpredictable. And with their pure strength and club-like tails, only the strongest of Vikings are able to wrestle with these creatures. Nailing one would definitely land me a date.

Exotic is the word I would use to describe the Hideous Zippleback. Two heads, one spewing flammable gas, the other with the spark to make it go boom. They have sharp, wicked fangs that they use to inject venom for predigestion. Luckily, two heads on these beasts' means double the status when they die.

Then there is the Monstrous Nightmare. Only the strongest of Vikings can hope to take on one of these. They have this nasty habit of setting themselves on fire before they attack. Taking out one of them would make me an instant celebrity.

But the ultimate prize is the dragon that no one has ever seen. The only proof of its existence is its chilling cry as it blazes across the night sky and the destruction that its plasma shots leave behind. It never misses, and no one has ever survived a close encounter. We call it Night Fury. If I could slay one of them, I would become a legend.

At my age, not killing a dragon is expected. After all, I'm still young, but the date is closing and soon not having slain one will make me a disgrace. I have a year, maybe two, before that happens. Of course, the absence of dragon heads on my wall has nothing to do with lack of effort. Due to my frail stature I have instead tried to use my intelligence to slay one of the monsters. But it never works. In fact, I always seem to make it worse. I have destroyed the Mead Hall, accidentally released dragons from the Kill Ring, crushed livestock, and burned down one of the docks. And that's just the first page of my résumé.

It's not my fault. There are always consequences that I could never have accounted for. Still, it has been more than enough for people to call me Hiccup to Hapless. I am a walking disaster – my intelligence is a curse, according to my dad. He banned me from building any more of my contraptions, but I of course don't listen.

I have to kill a dragon. I want to be like dad.

Stoick is my father and is everything I am not. Big, proud, strong, he's one of the best dragon slayers in the history of our village. It is said that he killed a dragon as a baby by popping its head clean off its body with naught but his hands. Do I believe it? Yes, I do. It's for these reasons that Stoick the Vast is chief of the village. And an extremely good chief at that, but the dragons are getting bolder and raiding the village with alarming frequency. The amount of food the beasts pillage is starting to become of extreme concern. We have enough to last for now, but a few more successful raids and we won't make it through the upcoming winter. At least not without relying on trade, and having to depend on others for our survival is not the Viking way.

Me? I'm not supposed to worry about that. I am supposed to help Gobber in the forge. And, yes while I do indeed do that, I also am building a contraption that I know will help me in my goal. In fact, I just finished it. I will kill a dragon, no matter what. It is in my blood.

This is Berk; we are Vikings, and this is my story.


	3. Nighttime Fury

**Lightning Always Strikes Twice**

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Chapter 1: Nighttime Fury

_"It was the possibility of darkness that made the day seem so bright"_

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I couldn't believe how unlucky I was. Fishlegs, Toughnut, Astrid, all of them were out there helping with the dragon raid, and I was stuck in the forge with Gobber. Not that I didn't like Gobber, but I needed to kill a dragon. My life would improve immediately. The other Vikings would be able to look at me; I might even be able to get a date. And Dad wouldn't be ashamed of me anymore.

I leaned out the window and watched the other teens. The smoke from the beasts unforgiving rampage of raining fire obscured them, so it was hard to tell what they were doing. A nearby roar reverberated in my ears as a dragon suddenly crashed into the ground. Its head was flailing around, fire steaming out like a torrent of water. Ropes quickly forced the head to the ground but not before the damage was done. Astrid and the others raced into my vision and started putting out the fire the beast started.

Their job was so much cooler than mine. Sure, they weren't killing dragons, but it was still better than being stuck in this forge. I was apprenticed to Gobber, an important job, but killing dragons was everything around here. Maybe I could just sneak out.

"Hey" the forge master, Gobber, said as he pulled me back into the building.

"Oh come on, let me out," I protested. "Please, I need to make my mark"

"You have made plenty of marks," Gobber poked me in the shoulder with the metal claw that replaced a lost limb, "all in the wrong places."

I looked at him with pleading eyes and said, "Please. Two minutes, I'll kill a dragon. My life will get infinitely better. I might even get a date."

Gobber started to count off on his fingers, "You can't lift a hammer," one finger, "you can't lift an axe," two fingers. He picked up a bola. "You can't even throw one of these," Gobber said, handing the bola to a Viking waiting at the window.

"Alright fine," I admitted, "but this will throw it for me." I gestured to my small, wooden, cannon-like contraption and lightly touched it. For whatever reason, the weapon reacted and activated on my touch. The bola flew out and smacked into one of the Vikings waiting at the window for a weapon. I swear it had never done that in earlier tests.

"See, now this right here is what I'm taking about." Gobber exclaimed and walked toward me shaking his metal claw.

"Mild calibration issue-"

Gobber interrupted, "Hiccup if you're ever going to get out there and fight dragons you need to stop all this."

"But you just pointed to all of me." I said.

"Yes," Gobber said with excitement and poked me in the left shoulder. "That's it! Stop being all of you."

I shook my finger at Gobber and said, "You sir are playing a dangerous game keeping this much raw Vikingness contained. There will be consequences."

"I'll take my chances." Gobber said with exasperation and turned away. Grabbing a sword, he turned back toward me. "Sword sharpened. Now."

Well so much for that. Bringing the sword over to the pedal wheel, I started to work. What more could I do? As long as Gobber was here with me, my chances of slipping out were minuscule. Grumbling, my focus shifted back toward the sword I was sharpening.

That was when I heard it.

It was not a sound that I could easily describe. Long, high-pitched screeching that made more than the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Once you heard it, you were only supposed to do one thing. Pray. Or run. The pitch and volume would increase until you wanted to rip your ears off, and then the sound would end with a surge as the beast fired its shot.

A Night Fury was at Berk.

The explosion and fire that rained down showed the Night Fury successfully attacked. Not a surprise, by the time that call was bellowed it was already too late.

"Mind the forge Hiccup, they need me out there." Gobber said in a slight panic. He ran forward, screwing an axe onto his hand replacing his metal claw. Right before he exited the building, Gobber turned around and said, "Stay. Put. There." Gobber pointed right toward the middle of the shop. He waited only a moment before turning on his heels and charging out into the battlefield a war cry already thundering from his lips.

Mind the forge he said? Well, like any respectable Viking I did the only thing that would make any sense. I reloaded my weapon, propped it up and started wheeling it out the door. There were dragons to be slain, and I was a Viking. Gobber would understand.

With a spring in my step, I wheeled my weapon through the chaos. This was where I belonged, in the thick of things and fighting dragons! All the smoke in the sky was jeopardizing my goal, however, so I quickly marched forward with my weapon bouncing around on the uneven ground. All of a sudden, the launcher hit a rock on the ground and jostled around. I slowed down. It couldn't hurt to be too careful after all. But even so, what was the worst that could happen? My weapon shot a large bola into the air no building was getting destroyed by that.

Eventually, I got to a clear part of the village. I could see the twinkling stars in the night sky. It was almost as if they were trying to talk to me. Stopping abruptly, I let my weapon uncoil itself. It sprang, folded out and was ready for use. It was so cool! With poorly curbed enthusiasm, I jumped into position, took aim toward the sparkling sky and waited. And waited. Like water evaporating on a hot afternoon, my excitement withered as time went on. There was nothing to shoot at.

Breaking my thoughts was that sound again. High pitched and harrowing, it caused my whole body to go on alert. The Night Fury was attacking again. Flipping around with haste, I scanned the night sky. It was somewhere up there.

The pitch grew to its ear-splitting climax and the beast fired.

"There!" I exclaimed out loud. In the night sky, a small patch of stars was blocked out as if something were covering it. It was hard to tell from this distance, but it looked like the silhouette of a dragon. The Night betrayed the beast.

Taking aim, I tried to calm myself. My breathing was fast and short as if I had just run a race. After a moment, I managed to relax my body and emotions. It was time. Holding my breath, I predicted the flight path and fired into the night.

My bola exploded into the air with ferrous fury. The whole world seemed to slow as I watched my invention work perfectly. The shot was on target; I was going to get my first kill! Then, at the last possible moment the dragon moved and avoided the shot. The bola fell harmlessly into the night appearing to have landed somewhere near Ravens Point.

"What!" I yelled. "No! Why did you have to move you stupid dragon? You couldn't have just flown straight for two more seconds. No, that's too easy for little old Hiccup." Falling to my knees, I put my head into my hands and groaned. Why was it that no matter what I did I was always a failure?

Taking a long, slow, deep breath, I stood back up. My contraption was still intact, and I didn't destroy anything. Maybe this was progress. As I moved to pack up my weapon, the completely unexpected happened. In retrospect, I probably should have noticed it before it was on top of me but no sense in crying over spilt milk.

A large, scaly claw smashed my invention with tremendous force. The snapping and cracking of that woody piece-of-art caused my eyes to expand to almost comical size. I had put a lot of work into that. Without thinking, I jumped forward to try to salvage what I could. Unfortunately, the pressure the beast was putting on from above, combined with the pressure I applied from the back, was just too much for the, increasing so, pile of ruble. The rope that I used to create the propelling force snapped, and caused a piece of wood, about the size of my arm, to launch away at an extremely fast speed.

I watched in disbelief as the diminutive piece of wood told the story of my life. It was just high enough to go through the fire on top of the torch, but not low enough to get stopped by it. What were the chances of that? Like one in a hundred; one in a thousand? Sighing, I watched the piece of, now flaming, wood fall into a pile of hay. To say it caught fire quickly would be an understatement; the hay was a rapid inferno before I could even blink. Thankfully, the pile was just outside of town so there wasn't any real damage.

Yet, out of nowhere, a tree fell on that inferno. I have no idea how, most likely the gods having a good laugh at my expense. The impact caused the burning hay to go flying everywhere. It was a windy night, and while the hay would become ash momentarily, it was still able to get enough distance to enter the town.

One, two, three buildings caught ablaze. More were sure to follow, but worse of all was the fire that was accumulating under one of the platforms. It was mostly made of stone and should have been fireproof, but it had never been introduced to Hiccup-style chaos. Regardless of how well constructed it was or how many fires it had dealt with in the past, this was the limit that pushed it over.

Now, normally a single platform being destroyed wouldn't have been that big of a deal. But this platform just happened to hold ammo for the catapults. Thus, when it collapsed boulder-sized rock went hurtling through the town. Vikings dived out-of-the-way as the avalanche advanced downhill toward the docks. I had a hard time seeing the cascade but the explosions, the raining of wood, the screaming and the rumble in the ground told me all that I needed to know.

Above me, there was a periodic rumbling sound. It was hearty and loud but surprisingly non-hostile. Turning my face skyward, I discovered that it was the dragon that destroyed my toy. The dragon was large and covered in red and orange scales with needle like claws and a mouthful of deadly teeth - a Monstrous Nightmare. But the beast wasn't looking at me; it was instead watching the carnage that was going on around it. The weird growling was still coming from the dragon.

Was it laughing?

There was no way, dragons are animals; they are not capable of that level of emotion. Still, I was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth and took advantage of its distraction.

Of course, just like everything else, that plan failed. The dragon, whether through scent, noise or something else, immediately noticed my attempt at running away. The ensuing chase was not one of my more enjoyable experiences, but sadly it was not a new one for me. I ran and screamed, quite manly of course, and the dragon chased me through the village. We had only destroyed two more small sheds when my dad finally came to my rescue.

The Nightmare was out of fire, having wasted it scaring me, and thus my dad, being an amazing warrior, was able to beat it without much trouble. A few hits to face and the beast scampered off without another glance.

Still, my personal trial was not yet complete. The pillar I had just hid behind crumbled and collapsed, causing the large torch on top to topple over, roll throughout town and cause even more damage.

Dad looked at me. His expression was so volatile that he looked like a bear that had just had its fish stolen.

"Dad, it wasn't my fault-" I tried to say.

Too late, Stoick the Vast was already yelling. His outburst was so strong that I felt his spittle hit my face from his rampaging lecture.

I was in trouble. Again.

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Thankfully, the lecture was short-winded from my dad. Well, at least the first part was; he promised me that we would continue our chat at the house later. Needless to say, after Gobber took me home, I bolted. No way was I staying in that war zone. And no, that didn't make me a coward. Just showed my intricate wisdom.

Needing somewhere to go, I headed out toward where I thought my bola landed. Ravens Point was my destination; I was on my where there. Getting out of the village was easy – everyone had other things to worry about. Ravens Point was a few miles in the woods, but I wasn't worried. I knew this land and have traveled it all my life; including after dark. It wasn't like the dragons would stay after their raid. They always bolted like the rats they were.

The decision to go get my bola was easy to make. I needed to reclaim that rope. I knew Dad was going to ban any new inventions and rope was going to be one of the most inconvenient materials to obtain during my building prohibition. Sure, I could have nicked some from the Village. But I tried to steal as little as possible. There was also the minute hope that I had been mistaken; maybe I did hit something and I would be able to use it to stave off some of my dad's anger.

The trail I was following through the forest was desolate. The trees and vegetation created a blanket of darkness that made the ground hard to see. Thankfully, the moon and stars were out tonight so the blanket was quite thin. Of course, that would change as I got deeper and the canopy covered the path. Then the darkness would become impermeable.

The search did not take nearly as long as I anticipated. Honestly, I thought I was wasting my time, what were the chances of finding it tonight in the rapidly thickening dark? Very little, but at least it got me away from the village for a bit. The bola had hit a tree and dangled within reach. There was no victim tangled in the bola's tight embrace, but it was mesmerizing to watch the little remains of light reflect off the stones. I never noticed the rocks I used had reflectance properties.

Sighing, I stood on my tippy toes and took the bola down from the tree. The frayed rope made me sigh again; the usable remains were much less than I hoped for. As I kneeled and gathered the pieces in a neat pile, something happened that made my stomach quiver as if bugs were dancing in it.

In the woods at night, the best means of survival was not sight; it was your other senses. Hearing was invaluable, and a strong nose with a smart mind could easily get you out of danger. Unless the hunter was incredibly talented of course, then, well, you were screwed.

The loud snap of a twig radiated through the woods like a crack of thunder on a clear afternoon. And it had been very close. Looking around with a fearful expression, I moved ever so slowly to where the noise originated. I toyed with the idea of heading toward the village – it would be easy to find, just follow the burning smell. But I was a Viking; the snapping of a twig in a dark, bleak forest, while alone and armed with only a dagger shouldn't be scary. Right?

Reaching the edge of the trail, I pushed the bushes away and looked at the ground. A sea of black filled my eyes; the vegetation was too thick for the light to permeate. I pushed hard on the small plant to allow for light to reach where I was looking. Right as I did so, however, there was another snapping sound to my left, followed soon after by rustling to my right. I froze and waited, not even daring to breathe. The forest was silent. Completely silent.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed the bush farther back revealing a broken twig and an impression in the soft dirt. It was hard with the light, but I could see the imprint. It was too large for a wolf, and it was the wrong shape for a bear. There was only one thing it really could be – although I didn't recognize the species.

I started to breathe very rapidly; I could hear my panting with startling clarity in the quiet of the night. My heart felt as if it was suffering a sugar rush, beating faster, stronger and in erratic pulses.

Looking around and narrowing my eyes for better vision, I examined the nearby area. The only thing that was wrong was that absolute silence of the forest. I had no idea why I hadn't noticed before. There should be some noise: the soft humming of bugs or the hooting of owls. But the dead of night was just that, dead.

Moving very slowly toward my bundle on the ground, I tried not to think about what was prowling these woods. My dad said that fear would just enrage the beasts into attacking, so I couldn't just run. I had to try to move calmly and act as if I was in control. Griping the bundle on the ground, I forced my shaking knees to push up and straighten out; there was no use to linger here, the faster I got out the better off I was.

Just as I got ready to turn around I head it. A sound unlike any I had ever before, yet similar at the same time. It was very angry if the low, powerful growls were anything to go by. It was also right behind me. I gulped, dropped my query and prayed to the gods to help me.

I turned around.

The beast that was behind me was obviously waiting for me to turn as right when I did it lunged. I was knocked back and pinned against a rock. It hurt; oh by the gods did it hurt. Stars danced around my vision, and something pressed into my neck. Something very sharp and attached to the strangest dragon I had ever seen. It was impossible to make out details in the darkness, but I knew I had never seen a dragon like this before. I had also never seen a dragon this angry before, at least not at this proximity.

Its green eyes were easily visible in the night and seemed to hold their own light. The eyes were beautiful and vibrant but were narrowed to slits and radiated the rage this creature felt. It was right about then that I realized I was going to die.

The wetness that I felt on my face was embarrassing, shameful even. I was a coward. Sniffling, I started to cry, or at least as much as I was able to. The sharp claws pressed into my neck, transforming those pathetic sobs into gasping, dry coughing. Although, by the pain and the dripping I felt down the side of my neck I wasn't sure how long the coughing would remain dry.

Even the beast seemed displeased with the weakness of its prey. As soon as the tears started flowing the dragon's growls intensified and the glare deepened. But it didn't attack.

I wasn't sure how long the beast stayed like that, but its growling did eventually stop and it simply watched me with luminous green eyes. To say I was uncomfortable would be like saying my dad liked cooking. The beast had already established its dominance; I had no idea what it was waiting for. The killing blow was coming any second I was sure of it.

My tears were obscuring what little vision I had but even so the disappearance of those green eyes was immediately noticeable. Instead, a strangle black splotch replaced their presence. However, the black was quickly outlined with small triangles of gray. It took only a second for me to register them as teeth.

While my sobbing had quieting down over the last few minutes, the discovery brought them back in full force. I closed my eyes, even though a Viking should never fear death. I couldn't help it. Nothing about me felt like a Viking right then. I felt the beast's claw on my chest leave and the creature moved toward my head. I grimaced and waited for the feeling of razor-sharp teeth to tear into my flesh.

However, as my crazy life would go, my skin was not what I needed to fear for, but rather my ears. The beast roared at me with a volume I didn't know was obtainable. I think even Dad would have been impressed. I felt the spit of the creature hit my face and couldn't help but wonder how many more times that would happen today.

Then, the pressure on my neck alleviated. I was so confused; the ringing in my ears was loud and painful; I couldn't think straight. The world was spinning like a ship in a whirlpool.

The beast's roar changed, and I almost opened my eyes. However, the burning smell, and the warming of the air in front of me told me all I needed to know. At this point, the sobbing had stopped, but I was still lightly coughing from the damage the dragon had done to my neck. I steadied my breathing and waited for the end.

It happened with remarkable speed. Before I knew it the dragon breathed, and my face warmed up with great heat. I screamed and rolled to the left. Shockingly, the dragon did not impede my progress. Catching my breath, I quickly stood up creating a cloud of dirt and debris and opened my eyes.

The forest was empty.

Breathing hard and wiping one last tear from my face, I glanced all around the area before hesitantly moving back toward the rock. I could easily see where I had been pinned. The rock was smooth and around half my size. Next to it was a blackened trail. The unfortunate rocks in that deadly path had been ground to a pulp; any vegetation was nonexistence as if it had been disintegrated. What was even more surprising was the sparkling blue intermixed with the black residue. There was only one dragon that I knew of that had blue fire.

"Night Fury," I said in both wonder and horror, before coughing.

Reaching my hand to my throat, I felt the wetness there and knew I needed to get home.

I reached down to grab the bundle of robes I had dropped only to feel dirt in-between my fingers and under my nails. My eyes quickly darted over the dark ground trying to locate it. After a few moments, I started to cough again and gave up on my prize.

I quickly straightened up and looked around. The forest had come back alive, there was sounds in the air; just ambient things like crickets and what not, but the idea was comforting. The nearby howling of wolves was much less so. I quickly reached for my knife and discovered the leather strap that held it was empty. How was it that I didn't even think of my knife when the dragon attacked me? Am I really that dumb? Or maybe I was just that scared.

Sighing, I got up and began the journey back to Berk. I knew I needed to hurry with the wolves nearby.

I walked for a while with only my thoughts. I had no idea why the beast hadn't killed me. That didn't seem normal. Mentally, I made a note to ask Gobber about it later. My legs were starting to get tired from the marching, which was suppressing – I hadn't traveled that far, but then again, it was the end of the day. The swooshing of leaves became more apparent as the wind picked up. That was a good sign - it was usually windier by the coast. That and the smell of burning wood meant that I was close to Berk. Soon, the darkness started to abate for the light of the fires at the village and something in me broke. I ran, not stopping or even slowing until I reached the door of my residence. I had never been so happy to see the fancy wooden symbols and engravings.

There was nothing different to my room when I got in there. Everything was in place: my designs and drawings were scattered all over the wooden desk; my bedding was in a state of disarray; my clothes were randomly located through the room. But something was missing, something was wrong. With a shaking breath, I moved over and collapsed onto my bed. I was ready for this ridiculous day to end. Honestly, it was starting to rank up there in all-time bad. And I have had some bad days before.

Just as the tranquil peace of sleep was about to overtake me, I heard a noise that made me groan. It was soon followed by a knock at my door and a bellowing voice, "Hiccup! Get out here, we need to talk."

My dad wanted to finish his conversation.

Knowing that I was not about to get any rest, I abandoned my bed and slowly shuffled toward the door. I wouldn't find my father there; he expected me to listen to him and would be waiting in a more comfortable location.

I slouched over to the living area, watching my dad as soon as I entered the room. He was kneeling in front of the fireplace mumbling to himself. Of course, as soon as I deposited myself in a chair, he turned around and looked at me, a slight glare on his face.

"Hiccup, we need to talk," Stoick said in a, shockingly, quiet voice. "You need to stop interfering with the defense of the village."

"Dad, I can't help it, when I see a dragon I just need to, you know," I pretended to strangle something in front of me, "kill it."

My throat burned when I spoke, but I was proud of the clarity.

Stoick turned back to the fire and sighed. The flames flickered and danced from the large man's breath. The glow of the fire gave him a mysterious appearance, outlining him with a strong contrast of red and black. "You are many things Hiccup, but a dragon slayer you are not."

I opened my mouth to speak but stopped myself. Maybe Dad was right? After all, what other dragon slayer would have gotten terrified enough to start crying when trapped by one of the beasts. That was not the mark of a great warrior or a great Viking; it was a mark of weakness. Still, I wasn't ready to give up, at least not until I killed one dragon. Just one! Was that so much to ask?

"Hiccup!" Stoick's voice boomed, and he suddenly jumped forward and grabbed me by the shoulders. "How are you bleeding? What happened?"

Crap. I completely forgot to clean up my neck. I had checked it in the forest briefly, and it didn't seem too deep, but still Dad was going to-

"It was one of the beasts during the raid." Stoick growled. "I'm sorry I didn't notice, but look on the bright side, maybe it will scar now."

Yes, because having a few ugly scars on my neck was a good thing. Well, to my society it was. They were supposed to show bravery and fortitude. So much for that, more like a badge of shame to me – after all they were reminders of the failure that I was, crying in front of a dragon. How pathetic.

I didn't want them. And I prayed to Odin that they wouldn't scar, I wouldn't be able to say where I got them without lying, and I couldn't lie without stuttering. It was a disaster in the making.

"I'm taking you to the healer," Stoick's voice rang out.

"Dad!" I exclaimed with annoyance, "I'm fine."

"I'll be the judge of that, a few of those cuts look deep." Then without warning he slammed his fist down on the table snapping the wood clean through; cups blasted into the air and crashed into the floor. "Damn those beasts! They have the most successful raid in years, and they almost kill you."

"Dad, I'm-"

"Don't say you're fine!" Stoick roared, "I can see the punctures son and if that Nightmare had gotten just a bit deeper you would be dead! I should have been faster; I promised both Valhallarama and myself that I would protect you and this village. I can't even do, ARGGGG!" Stoick threw a wooden mug at the wall, clearly enraged with himself.

Nightmare? What did a nightmare have to do with this? Oh, Dad thought the Monstrous Nightmare from earlier was the culprit.

"Dad, I…" I couldn't bring myself to tell him what happened; the shame was just too great, I couldn't put that on him too. "…was wondering what you meant when you said worst raid ever. Are we going to have enough food for the winter?"

Dad was still huffing and staring at the cup he had just thrown. Eventually, he calmed down and said, "Eight houses, one storage warehouse, four personal sheds, half a dock, an ammo tower, four boats, and one torch tower."

I grimaced. That was bad. "Well, no casualties. That's good at least," I said slowly, testing my dad's wrath. "Wait…what about the other towers, I heard that Night Fury a least two times."

"Hiccup," Dad's voice was flat as if he couldn't believe what he was about to say, "That was your total for the night, not all the destruction the village underwent."

"Oh, um. Maybe we should go see that healer after all, "I said while pointing with my thumb toward the door.

There was no answer to my comment. The silence was so thick I wondered if I could cut it. The only sounds in the room were the crackling of the logs and the soft, yet powerful, breaths of my father. After a moment, my dad finally opened his mouth.

"Why do you do it Hiccup?" I had never heard his voice like this; shouting was normal – this quiet, reclusive, emotion tone was unknown to me. "Why can't you just be normal?"

"I'm sorry dad, I just-" What was I supposed to say? I had no idea how to deal with Dad like this. In fact, until a few moments ago I had no idea this version of him existed. "Well, at least nothing happened to the Mead Hall. Remember that time when that group of Terrible Terrors chased me into there and got into all the mead? And then-"

Stoick furiously rubbed the bride of his nose; his eyes shut in what looked like pain. "Hiccup, I really don't want to hear of your past 'achievements' right now."

Okay, that was a dumb decision. Humor was a no go, check.

Just as I opened my mouth to try an alternate method of attack, Dad got up and turned around. "Let's just get you to the healer."

I blinked once, then twice. Even with just his posture it was clear that the moment had passed. His old stature disappeared faster than the drink in a Vikings mug. The Stoick that I knew and loved was back.

For a moment, I wondered if I were only the second person to have seen that side of Dad – that weakness. I was sure my mother had. And just like a thousand times past I wished she was still alive, but not to comfort me. But for dad, he needed her right then.

"Oh, by the way," Stoick said as he pulled a fur up around his shoulders, thankfully not aware where my thoughts had drifted, "I'm leaving on another nest trip. We cannot sustain another attack like tonight's or we will have to," Stoick started shivering, "beg for our survival."

My dad continued before I could digest the information, "And that brings me to your punishment. Most of the village is going on this hunt, and that includes Stoneblood and Meathead. So there is no one left to train the new class about killing dragons. Gobber will be doing so in their absence. Your punishment is simple, you will aid him in addiction to all your blacksmithing tasks."

Wait, what! "But dad I don't know anything about how you're supposed to fight dragons, how in the world could I help Gobber? Why would you even want me to, you've seen my methods?"

Stoick's hearty and sturdy laugh rattled the empty cups scattered around the room. "Hiccup, you won't teach the runts; you're just going to help Gobber with the Kill Ring. Someone has to fed those beasts and make sure the metal barrier are safe, among other things. That's too much work for Gobber alone so you will assist him."

Suddenly, my vision darkened as Dad threw something at me. Quickly shuffling it off my head I noticed it was another fur. Sighing in resignation, I threw the fur over myself. After all, if my dad wanted something, he got it.

"Now let's go see that healer, then maybe get something to eat. You sound like you could use it."

I was about to protest when my stomach made its own argument. I sighed, even louder this time, and stomped after my dad into the cold night. I was right, today really did mark the worst day in my life.

Little did I know, that record wouldn't last for long.


	4. Misguided Enthusiasm

**Lightning Always Strikes Twice**

* * *

Chapter 2: Misguided Enthusiasm

_"I have learned all kinds of things from my many mistakes. The one thing I never learn is to stop making them."_

* * *

"How's the neck laddie?"

Gobber's voice rang out like a hurricane in the tranquility of my thoughts. Shaking my head back and forth rapidly, I turned to face the large, burly man.

"It's fine, just a bit uncomfortable to speak," I replied.

Gobber hit me on the back lightly causing me to stumble forward. "I heard the healer said a few of those wounds would probably scar," Gobber said with cheer. "You should wear them proudly, permanent bodily harm is a great for self-esteem."

I massaged the cloth that was lightly wrapped around my throat and smiled at Gobber. Just as I opened my mouth to voice a witty response, the burly man eyes lit up, and he started speaking with haste, "just you wait Hiccup, today is going to be a great day. Those kids think they want to start dragon training, but if I don't have them twitching and groaning from pain then my name isn't Gobber the Belch!"

"What about putting them in mortal peril?" I added sarcastically.

Gobber didn't seem to notice my tone. "Of course Hiccup that goes without saying."

Thankfully, Gobber didn't see me roll my eyes.

"Now get back to work you little ruffian. The sun is about to break, and we still have all these weapons to repair."

I glanced over to where Gobber indicated. To me, it looked more like a pile of scrap than any assortment of weapons. The mangle of steel, wood and rock was mixed like snow and dirt after midday rush – it was an indiscernible mess. Sighing, I walked over to the pile and pulled out, something.

"The raid was pretty bad last night, we lost a lot of weapons and food, but your dad will make those beasts pay." Gobber said as I examined what must have been an axe, although it was hard to tell.

"Hey Gobber, why are we trying to repair this stuff, it's pointless." I said and, when I saw the large man rubbing his chin in thought, quickly added, "I mean, wouldn't it be better to start from scratch. How am I supposed to repair this-" I held up the makeshift weapon I was examining. As I did, the deformed metal of the weapon suddenly fell off the wood and landed in the pile with a light clang. "Uh, I think this used to be an axe-"

Gobber rushed over to me. "And now it's a spear," he said grabbing the small wooden poll. "Well, a small one at least."

Small! The 'spear' was no longer than his forearm. I had no idea what game Gobber was playing, but somehow I knew that it was going to end bad for me. It always did.

"You have a good point there Hiccup." The giant man clapped. "Well, that's as good an excuse as any I've heard, lets head over the Kill Ring then. After all, we have to get ready for the kids." Gobber's grin turned savage and, to be honest with you, it terrified me.

"Wait, wait, wait," I stammered. "Gobber, Dad just said I was supposed to like, I dunno, feed them and stuff. I don't know anything about fighting them. It wouldn't be wise for someone like me," I gestured to myself with both hands, "to teach my peers how to fight. And what about the forge? We still need to make sure the village is well equipped and all that stuff. And Gobber we-"

"Hiccup, you're rambling son. Don't worry about it, I just need your assistance with mundane stuff; you will be perfectly safe."

I snorted.

"No, honestly, Stoick would have my head if you got hurt again. He was none too happy about last night." Gobber said while rubbing his head. "As for the forge, don't worry about it. The village still has a surplus of weapons and the beasts won't attack again so soon."

Yeah, because you know exactly what they're going to do, right Gobber?

A squeaking sound met my ears, and I felt the slight sway of the building as Gobber trampled out. Looking up, I was momentarily distracted by the swinging door. The periodic pendulum-like movement was mesmerizing visually, but the noise from the poorly maintained joints was quite irritating.

Resolving myself to misery and whatever my mentor deemed amusing, although they both likely went hand in hand, I followed the rumbling man out into the main part of the village.

Vikings were never excited about the morning; we were more of a nighttime species. That didn't mean we were lazy. Which is why the village was hoping with activity, even though the orange and reds from the sun were just starting to explode over the horizon. The streaks of reflected light swayed and shifted with the rise and fall of the ocean.

My father was taking most of the fighting populace on a hunt. A hunt to find the dragon's nest. We knew the beasts came somewhere from the north, but a thick, mysterious fog covered the area. No one, not my fathers, nor his ancestors, nor even our most bitter rivals had ever figured out how to navigate the labyrinth of rocks and islands that lay beneath that cover of evil. Any Viking that attempted was lucky to come home. Supposedly, the fog was cursed, it made men sick, mad and, worst of all, weak. If the bearing was lost, doom was sure to follow. The voyage would be stuck rooming the desolate waters and vegetation-less lands until the beasts found them. Then their bones would find their way into the monsters nest in a sick twist of irony. It was an impossible task.

Which was why my dad had no problem undertaking it.

That was just the way he was, and I loved that about Dad. He had stubbornness issues, as all Vikings did, but unlike them, my dad succeeded with his tenacity. He knew when to stick with his guns and when to change tactics. To Dad, impossible was a synonym of probable. If anyone could find the dragon's nest, it was him.

Of course, the hunt had not left quite yet. It was still before the rooster's call, and the decision had only been made last night. Even so, the village was quickly preparing for the journey. Carts full of replacement masts, barrels of fish, and racks of weapons bounced precariously down the hill toward the docks. Vikings of all shapes and sizes – although the small ones were still large – and sex hustled around in a controlled frenzy. The sense of ominous dread was thick in the air – a dragon hunt was always uncomfortable – but we were Vikings, no one would even think to complain.

The long, trilling call of a rooster finally rang through the village. Of course, with all the jingling metal, squeaking of wheels and hearty farewells, the poor birds caw was hard to hear. So naturally, it tried again.

"So Gobber," I said as Gobber and I dodged around the preparing villagers, "I thought you said you didn't want to teach. Why are you so enthusiastic about this?"

The man's bellowing voice responded immediately, "a personally favor to your father. I would have loved to go with him, but Stoneblood and company know those beasts well, and someone has to stay back here. And with your, uh," Gobber suddenly coughed and cleared his throat, "other reasons…besides I'm not really the best at traveling anymore – more pieces of me might fall off."

"That doesn't explain your enthusiasm," I said.

"Well, if I'm going to have to teach the runts, I have to get some enjoyment out of it." A creepy and sly smirk suddenly adored the mans face. "You kids think you are so tough, I'm going to love playing with them today."

Gobber might soon find his way into my nightmares. That smirk was downright scary. I tentatively asked, "But today would just be basics and what not…right?"

A loud, hearty guffaw reached my ears as the man threw his head back. "Basics? Ha! Nope, I'm going to throw them right into the fire." Gobbers eyes twinkled mischievously. "Literally, it's the best way to learn."

Ah, that explained why Gobber was so excited. I had to admit since I wasn't going to be at the receiving end – hopefully – the thought cracked a smile on my face. I would love to see Snotlout and Tuffnut put into their place.

The Kill Ring was situated out of the village across a perilous bridge. That bridge was one of my favorite structures in the village: it had no railings, a deathly drop, and jaded rocks at the bottom. I used to race Snotlout across it all the time when I was younger.

Then, on the other side, was the Kill Ring. The Kill Ring was far from my favorite place in the village. I wanted to kill a dragon, yes, but that didn't mean that I wanted to go play hide and seek or tag and retribution by fire with the beasts either. Seriously, I know we're Vikings, but how was winged monsters trying to maul you even remotely amusing?

The structure of the Kill Ring was actually pretty cool though, from an engineering standpoint. Only the Mead Hall had any similarity of complexity. It didn't seem so from initial impressions of course as its intricacies were subtle. But, it was way more than a hole in the ground. The pit was dug deep so the rock at the base was compact and resilient, so the rumble and tumble of the beast had less effect. The wire that covered the top in a spider-like web was something I assisted Gobber in making. It's a bunch of metal poles twisted into a twine – a metal rope basically. Then there are the cages themselves. Drilled into the stony walls of the pit, there was no escape for the beasts. After all, how did they expect to dig through a dozen feet of solid rock? The doors holding them in place were also a foot thick of pure iron and held into place by massive logs. Especially for what it contained, the place was quite safe.

I walked with Gobber around on the observation deck – the place up above where we all gathered to watch the students of the game play with the beasts. We approached a rather strange Viking. He was taller than most, but his body was disproportionally narrow. Although, his shoulders were still huge which gave the man a very top-heavy feel. His long black hair went down past his shoulders and even covered the left side of his face – blocking the eye patch that was there. From a wire on his neck, a large, dried-out, yellow eye hung on his chest. A Gronckle had taken his left one when he was younger, so he took one back – an eye for an eye.

"Stoneblood!" Gobber clapped the man on the shoulders. "How are you doing today? Ready to go spill some dragon blood?"

"Always," the man, Stoneblood, said. His voice was much lighter than Gobber, but it had a raspy, strained edge to it as if the voice was weak from disuse.

"Yeah, well make sure you spill extra, my axe is getting thirsty."

The man grunted.

Gobber continued, "I know you're getting ready to leave. Just wanted to check with you and make sure everything is still fine. You still feeding the beasts the same?"

"Why do you even feed them if you're just going to slaughter them?" I blurted out, unable to contain my curiosity.

"Stronger," Stoneblood said, "better training."

Gobber ignored my comment and asked, "No new arrivals since last week?"

The man nodded his head, the eye on his chest bobbing with his motion. "Nadder," he said.

Stroking his beard, Gobber responded, "we got a Nadder again, eh? That's good."

One quick affirmative nod was what the blacksmith got.

"Alright then, nothing special going on right?"

This time, one shake of Stoneblood's head was all Gobber got. The dangling eye jiggled to the side lightly, and I couldn't tear my own from it. It just seemed so, I don't know, petty.

"Feed every day, Check the web and gates every three. Clean the pens every week." Stoneblood said.

I was flabbergasted; I had never heard the man speak that much before. The man's respect came from his ability to handle and slay dragons, not for any linguistic talents. Gobber didn't seem too surprised though, and being that they were friends, well, more like acquaintances, he probably had heard him speak in more than one or two words.

"Clean the pens," Gobber asked with a bit of hesitation. "How are we supposed to do that, knock on the beast's door and have them invite us in for supper?"

Stoneblood rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. He stared at Gobber for a moment; the hulky blacksmith held the gaze. Eventually, the lanky man said, "Have something distract in ring. Then clean. Or smell is terrible. And disease could fester."

Gobber's smirk returned in its full sinister glory.

"Don't even think about it Gobber!" I yelled pointing right at him.

Gobber rolled his eyes. "It was just going to be a joke son. Besides, I thought you said you were too muscular for their tastes." He paused. "Although, how did you know what I was going to say?"

"It was obvious where your thinking was going, and I am not going to be the distraction."

"But you have so much experience running from them," Gobber said.

I glared at the big man. I didn't care that he could kick my butt; I didn't care that he was Dad's best friend. At that moment, I was ready to take him on.

"Good luck," Stoneblood said to Gobber, before turning to me and adding, "you're going to need it."

The man then turned on his heel and headed for the main part of town, long black locks of hair swaying in the wind. Seeing the motion my mind was instantly drawn back to that stupid eyeball. I had no idea why I couldn't get it out of my head.

Closing my eyes, I rapidly shook my head back and forth. I took a deep breath. The scent of salt, seawater and the aroma of fish was extremely strong. So strong it was making my nose itch. My eyes snapped open.

Hunched over a basket, Gobber was muttering to himself. Narrowing my eyes and drifting over to him, I discovered what he was looking at. Icelandic Cod was almost overflowing from the edges – food for the beasts.

I knew we were obsessed with killing dragons, but this seemed ridiculous. Sure, we love tradition and the top student got to fight one on one with a Monstrous Nightmare at graduation. But that was also dumb. The student never succeeded in killing the creature, the adults always had to help, and every time someone got injured. Was all that trouble really worth three baskets of fish every day? No matter what angle I looked at it with, it was one of the most asinine decisions I could think of.

After all, we needed that food. But, a derelict part of my brain told me, this lets us fight dragons more efficiently and thus we save fish in the long run. Maybe, but three baskets a day? That's, I ran a quick calculation in my head, over a thousand baskets in a season. Insane, in other words.

The blaring of a horn suddenly radiated through the village causing me to jump in shock. Deep, powerful, prideful sound filled my ears, and I knew exactly what that call signified.

"Best of luck to you guys. You'll better kick some dragon butt for me, or I'll give you a piece of my mind when you get back." Gobber spoke, facing the pier.

The hunt was underway.

The next twenty minutes or so passed in relative silence. Gobber was suspiciously laughing every few minutes, and it was creeping me out. But, he was also leaving me alone, so I used the time to relax. There was a nice patch of grass near the entrance of the Kill Ring and I felt no qualms with hogging it, it was not like anyone else was using it. Just as the peace of sleep was about to take me, I heard voices drifting from the bridge.

"I am so pumped to kick some dragon tail!" Snotlout's dulcet tones.

"Oh yeah man, I am ready!" the charming voice of Ruffnut supplemented.

Various other agreements reverberated from the bridge, the cascading volume telling of their inevitable arrival.

Snotlout was my cousin and a bit of a doofus. Large and in-charge, he fit the bill of a Viking to the teeth; he even matched the mental capacity for the job. He liked to think he was the leader of his band of misfits, but if anything that belonged to Astrid: the girl was my first crush and my last – what can I say, I'm a hopeless case.

Although, Astrid was being a bit of a jerk lately. We used to play together when we were young as our mothers were good friends. Now, though, she does little other than look down at me with a disgusted scowl. She was just like the sun. Just as she was starting to warm up, she had to go and set, leaving me in a perpetual state of darkness. Maybe, just maybe, she would rise for me again. I would love to see her sunrise…hey, a man can dream, right? Even so, with her beautiful and composed stature she was someone truly unique. If she couldn't stand me, at least I would admire her from afar.

Honestly though, I was worried about this training. Anyone with half a brain knew Astrid was going to win. And if she did, she would have to face a nightmare. If history was anything to go by, she would be lucky to make it through with all limbs intact. That would not happen. I wouldn't let it happen. I just wasn't sure how yet. I'd think of something.

Then there were the twins Ruffnut and Tuffnut. Truth be told, I didn't know too much about them. Tuffnut did help Snotlout in bullying me but that was hardly a good judge of character. There had to be more to him than the ugly and egotistical moron he was in those encounters. Then again, maybe there wasn't. I've heard that Ruffnut was similar to her twin, but honestly I just didn't see it. She still had the ego and the permanent scowl, but she seemed more reserved and calculating as if she didn't have anything to prove. I liked that.

The last voice that I recognized was Fishlegs. I liked Fishlegs. He was a good guy. Although, coming from Hiccup the Horrible that wasn't saying a lot. Still, he was never overly cruel yet instinctively knew when to be tough and unyielding. He would be a strong and wise Viking someday, of that, there was no doubt. That was if he could get over his obsession with numbers – honestly I just didn't see the point of it, without a reference they're useless. But then again, Vikings did some weird things, so maybe he would be okay. Time would tell.

Standing up and stretching, I glanced over toward the bridge. My five peers were just about to reach the Kill Ring. Snotlout was dancing around Astrid gesturing wildly. Tuffnut and Ruffnut were grabbing their stomachs as they howled in laughter and Fishlegs looked as if he was muttering under his breath.

Unfortunately, they caught sight of me. "Dude, its Hiccup," Tuffnut said as he pointed at me.

Snotlout bounded over to me a smug look plastered on his face. "Well if it isn't…what happened to your neck?" he said with some slight concern in his voice.

The others quickly caught up with him, save Astrid – she was still moving at her pace. Ruffnut leaned in close and eyed the lightly reddened cloth that adorned my neck.

"I was clawed by a dragon last night." I apathetically declared. Okay, that wasn't too bad. It wasn't a lie either; maybe I could make this whole injury/scar thing work.

"Cool!" Ruffnut and Tuffnut both exclaimed.

No, it really wasn't. But I kept my mouth sealed shut and instead opted for smiling at the twins.

A thump on my shoulders caused me to slouch and turn around. Snotlout was standing there, a cheeky smile on his face. "Don't worry cuz, I won't let them get away with this. I'll drain them dry right from their necks!"

Wait what? There is no way that Snotlout of all people would say something like that to me. It's not as if I had any honor to defend. Although, I guess for us Vikings, getting mauled was a positive thing. And any reason to kill dragons wasn't just a good reason; it was a great reason.

Astrid walked by without even looking at me. Well, there goes any chance at the sympathy card. The others glanced at each other before shrugging and continuing toward the Kill Ring. I followed them.

"What are you doing?" Fishlegs asked. "I didn't think you were taking the dragon fighting class."

Snotlout and Tuffnut snorted at the same time.

Ignoring them, I said, "Nope, I'm just here to help Gobber."

"Help Gobber," Astrid said. Her voice was completely flat and emotionless. "There is nothing you could teach me. What help could you possibly be?"

I quickly waved my arms in front of me, "I'm just helping maintain the Kill Ring and stuff like that."

"Good, for a second, I thought this whole thing was going to be worthless," Astrid said, clearly pleased.

It was amazing how much words could hurt.

"Oh I get it," Snotlout said, "Gobber is going to feed you to the dragons. It all makes sense now."

"I don't know," Tuffnut added, "he wouldn't make a very big meal."

"I'm sure they wouldn't mind some toothpicks." Ruffnut said with a sly smile, watching me for my reaction.

The guffaws that followed were shockingly irritating. Odin, how annoying could these people be. Honestly, one minute they are being somewhat reasonable then the next they were talking about me getting eaten.

"Maybe Gobber is going to have them chase Hiccup so we could learn how to deal with a dragon attacking an ally," Astrid muttered quietly as if she was thinking aloud. "That would be good practice for village defense."

What!? I just said I wasn't going to help with the training. And besides, really Astrid? That's a terrible idea.

It was annoying, the guffaws, but now it was downright pissing me off. Astrid's comment substantially increased its volume; in fact Snotlout was caught so deeply in his mirth that he was on his knees hitting the ground.

It wasn't that funny, what was wrong with these people.

"Hey, that's not a bad idea." A deep, husky voice said in slow contemplation.

Somehow we had reached the Kill Ring even with all the distractions and Hiccup bashing. The entrance to the ring was like a journey into hell. A decent into darkness – although the morning light was quickly changing that – which led to a fiery nightmare. Still I wasn't too worried about that, at least not yet, Gobber's words were much more frightening.

"Yes, that sounds like an exceptional idea, lets just teach the dragons in captivity how to hunt humans better. Sounds wonderful for village morale!" I said.

Gobber ignored my comment and roared, "enough lollygagging you little delinquents, it's time to fight dragons. Now get down in that ring."

I thought my comment went completely unnoticed but then Snotlout whispered to me, "it would be wonderful for my morale."

Oh, how I hated him. My body was lightly shaking with rage. Someday I would find a way to knock his ego down. That was a promise.

Taking long steady breaths, I forced myself to calm down. Getting mad would only make the creep happier. I watched, with slight envy, as my peers trekked through the gate into the pit. They were happily chattering and looking around widely in awe.

I would never get trained to fight like them. It hurt a bit, but I knew that I would take down a dragon my way. I had to.

Suddenly, Gobber turned around and motioned for me to follow him in.

Hold up, I wasn't that jealous.

"Come on, I need my assistant after all." Gobber said. The smirk! It was back again.

This was bad.

Handing my fate over to the gods, I headed down into the Kill Ring. As soon as I crossed the threshold, Gobber pulled the large metal gate down. It slammed with a bang, interlocking into the holes on the floor. I reached out and gripped the metal; it was thick and cold to the touch. It felt absolute. I figured it must have been a bit like being locked up in prison. Well, except this prison had man-eating, fire-breathing monsters as cellmates.

The Kill Ring was different from the inside. The circular ring felt much more constricting and dangerous, yet, at the same time, it was even more majestic and awe-inspiring. The smooth stone walls were charred almost completely black, as were the chains and metal wiring directly above us. That large, overhanging web made the arena feel larger than it was, and from down below it looked as if some giant had dropped a huge bird-cage on a pit in the ground. Then there were the doors: large, metal, intricate and, in their own way, beautiful doors. The secrets held within only by one wooden log. Sure the log was huge, so the beasts didn't even have a fool's hope of breaking it, but I wasn't appeased by the wooden part. A few of the doors shook lightly as if their queries were getting excited. They reminded me of scavengers in the woods, eagerly anticipating the blood that would saturate the ground.

My muse was broken by the voice of Tuffnut as he strutted around the arena. "I hope I get some serious burns." His head was causally scanning the area, but his subtle movements gave away his excitement.

"I'm hoping for some mauling," Ruffnut added, "like the shoulder or lower back."

"Yeah, it's only fun if you get a scar out of it." Astrid said, her gaze glancing around in concealed wonder.

"Yeah, pain, love it." I said with sarcasm dripping off my words like water in a rainstorm.

All five of my peers turned and glared at me. They obviously didn't like my opinion. Tuffnut said something to Snotlout who nodded back at him before harshly jerking his thumb at me.

I was going to pay for that comment later.

"Lets get started," Gobber loudly called waving his good hand in circles. "Now, the recruit who does best will win the honor of killing their first dragon," Gobber jerked his clawed hand hard as if he was snapping something, "in front of the whole village."

Everyone in the group had different reactions to that declaration. Then again, they should have known this already, but they weren't the smartest of Vikings. The twins and Snotlout all had glazed-over eyes and were shaking lightly in unconstrained excitement. Even Fishlegs had a boisterous smile on his face. Then there was Astrid. She only nodded her head and turned toward the doors, a fire burning in her eyes.

The dragon-slayers-in-training quickly lined up in the middle of the ring and hung on Gobbers every word. I, however, slouched away toward the wall and sat down near a wooden barricade. That way, I figured if things got bad at least I would have some way of defense.

"Behind these doors, are just a few of the many species you will learn to fight," Gobber said.

A deep and angry roar meet his speech and the large Viking glanced over at the shaking door quickly and then turned back to the group. "The Deadly Nadder!" Gobber said with a smirk dancing on his face.

"Speed 8. Armor 16." Fishlegs quickly rattled off.

All the doors started to rattle; the dragons were getting into a frenzy like sharks with blood in the water.

"The Hideous Zippleback." Gobber said pointing to one of the doors.

Fishlegs had some more wisdom to add, "plus 11, stealth times two."

"The Monstrous Nightmare" Gobber was patrolling the room. He was looking around with calculating precision.

"Firepower 15."

"The Terrible Terror." A meaty finger pointed at another of the shaking doors.

"Attack 8. Venom 12."

"Can you stop that?" Gobber bellowed, facing the group. Turning back toward a door, he stopped and reached for the handle. "And the Gronckle."

Gobber was wearing that smirk again. I groaned; I wasn't a fan of Gronckles.

"Jaw strength 8," Fishlegs whispered to Ruffnut who rolled her eyes.

"Whoa, wait." Snotlout scampered forward toward Gobber, fear flashing in his eyes. "Aren't you going to teach us first?"

That smirk was going to be in my nightmares tonight, I was sure of it.

"I believe on learning on the job." Gobber said and pulled the switch.

To be honest, I thought the chaos would have been much worse. The Gronckle didn't come out attacking. Instead, it launched itself forward until it flew into the opposite wall. I chuckled, half amused and half nervous. While the beast's folly was humorous, I can't say my peers did much better. When the dragon came out, everyone scattered away like children with their hands in the cookie basket. They all looked so lost in the water, save for Astrid who seemed to already know how to swim.

While I would have loved to watch Astrid, I was too concerned with the big, fat dragon flopping around. Having recovered from its collusion, the beast was trying to eat a rock. I just hoped it wasn't sharpening its teeth.

Gobber's voice rang out in the ring. "Today is about survival. If you get blasted, you're dead."

The tone surprised me: instead of being filled with mirth it was completely serious. If I told you it didn't make me feel safer, I would be lying.

"Quick, what is the first thing you are going to need?" Gobber shouted out the question.

"A doctor?" I asked with a chuckle, and Gobber threw a nasty glare my way.

"Plus 5 speed?" Fishlegs asked nervously, bouncing up and down in place as he hopped from one foot to the other.

"A shield," Astrid said with confidence.

"Shield! Go!" Gobber shouted out as he moved toward the center of the ring. It seemed he wanted everyone as close as possible.

All of the trainees quickly darted toward the nearest shield. Astrid, Fishlegs, and Snotlout had no problems acquiring theirs and quickly hoisted them to protect themselves.

Gobber continued his lecture, "your most important piece of equipment is your shield. If you must make a choice between a sword and a shield, take the shield."

Unfortunately, Ruffnut and Tuffnut dashed toward the same shield, and both grabbed it.

"Get your hands off my shield!" Tuffnut roared.

Ruffnut tugged back, gestured with a nod of her head toward the other shields and said, "there is like a million shields."

"Take that one, it has a flower on it. Girls like flowers." Tuffnut argued.

Having had enough, Ruffnut pushed hard toward her opponent and slammed the edge of the shield into his face. "Oops, now this one has blood on it," she mocked.

Of course, because of their bickering they had no idea that the dragon was making a dive on them. I went to call out to them, but a glare from Gobber silenced me. The dragon lined up and fired with a deep gurgling sound. A meteor of fire and death launched toward the twins with sparks raining from behind it like a commit. With a spectacular burst of fire-like glitter, the bolt of fire nailed the shield impressively. So strong was the force of impact that it knocked the shield away, and propelled both twins backward. They landed on their butts with a dazed looked in their eyes.

"Tuffnut, Ruffnut, you're out," Gobber called out.

Clearing their thoughts and standing up, the twins noticed where I was sitting and headed over toward me. Both their shoulders were slouched, and they looked slightly ashamed.

I wanted to enjoy it, I really did. But I couldn't, I just felt bad for the two of them. That had been embarrassingly bad. Quietly, I said a quick prayer to the gods for them to have a better showing next time.

Both of them reached me and slouched down against the wall. They did it at exactly the same time – a mirror of the other. I understood why people called them the same right then, but they were wrong. They were each their own person.

The three remaining trainees were approaching the beast that was flying in the middle of the arena. It was pretty amazing how Gronckles flew, the wings flapped so fast they couldn't be seen – just like a hummingbirds. It allowed for the beast to just hover there and watch them.

No doubt contemplating which one it would like to eat first.

"Those shields are good for another thing, noise." Gobber loudly said, "Makes lots of it, it will throw off a dragons aim."

And that was exactly what the students did. They hit their weapons on the center of their shield. Mixtures of clangs and bangs echoed throughout the arena as the three teens slowly circled the dragon that was shaking its head rapidly in confusion.

"All dragons have a limited number of shots. How many does a Gronckle have?" Gobber asked.

"Five?" Snotlout asked tentatively.

"Six!" Fishlegs shouted in elation. Unfortunately, he also stopped hitting his weapon on his shield as he bounced up and down in celebration.

Gobber seemed to sense what was coming and watched the young Viking closely as he said, "correct, that's more than enough for all of you."

The Gronckle noticed the sudden absence of sound and turned toward Fishlegs. It was extraordinary how fast the blaze of fire erupted out of the beast's mouth. Fishlegs didn't even see the attack coming; the blast collided with his shield and knocked it clear to the other side of the ring. With a shout of terror, Fishlegs scampered toward the twins and me.

"Fishlegs out," Gobber said.

Still after the retreating Fishlegs, the Gronckle took aim and fired one more shot. Of course, since Fishlegs was running right at me and the twins, the shot was heading our way. Quickly standing up, the three of us dived behind the small, wooden wall. It wouldn't have mattered as we were much too slow, but thankfully, the blast of fire was off its mark.

Even though I was behind the barrier, I could still hear Snotlout talking. "So anyway I moved into my parent's basement, you should come by sometime to work out."

I moved out from behind the barricade with the others. Snotlout was talking to an oblivious Astrid. "You look like you work out," he said as Astrid cartwheeled away from her companion.

The fire from the beast was not meant for Snotlout as it was aiming for Astrid. Even so, the shot was deadly accurate and hit Snotlout shield right on, knocking the Viking all the way back to the wall. I was thankful that he managed to get his shield up in time. I wasn't sure if it was skill or coincidence. Sure, I wanted him brought down a peg or two, but I didn't want to see my cousin dead."

"Snotlout, you're done." Gobber said, and I sensed a bit of relief in his voice.

Astrid and the beast stared at each other will murderous revulsion. Other than the girl's breathing and the humming of the dragon's wings it was silent. Honestly, she was the only one that looked like she even belonged here. Suddenly, the young female lost her footing and stumbled. Thankfully though, Astrid wasn't stupid. She immediately dropped to the ground, and the beast, which had taken the opportunity, missed over her prone form.

"One shot left." Gobber called as he watched the beast fly directly over Astrid.

The Gronckle noticed the group of us on the edge of the arena and launched itself toward us like a tornado on wings. How could this be one of the slow dragons? It was fast as hell. I should have seen it coming. I mean honestly, my luck was way to favorable to last.

My peers wisely jumped away from me as the dragon approached, but I was frozen in shock. The beast stopped right in front of me.

"Hiccup!" Gobber's panicked shout was like a whisper on the wind. All I could pay attention to was the rows of spike-like-teeth and the hate-filled-eyes of the beast in front of me. My face grew hot, and the throat of the beast started to glow. My mind blanked. All I could think of was the previous night and the terror that I experienced. Something touched the bandage around my neck, and I realized that it was my hand, subconsciously rubbing the raw and sore flesh. The heat was getting unbearable. I closed my eyes.

Something derailed the shot and it missed hitting right above my head. Snapping my eyes open, I noticed Gobber's metal claw etched in the mouth of the beast. The fury on his face reminded me of my fathers – it was of a Viking scorned.

"And that's six." Gobber said with a very flat, extremely dangerous voice. I sat, trying to slow my erratic heartbeat as I watched Gobber wrestle the beast back into its cage. "Go back to bed you overgrown sausage." I heard him mutter.

Finished delivering his cargo to its destination he stomped back to us. Noticing the disappointment in the faces of his students he said, "You'll get another chance, don't you worry."

Gobber paused for a minute and looked directly at me. Eventually he added, his voice like a father giving advice to his child, "Remember, a dragon will always," he empathized his next word, "always, go for the kill."


	5. Nightmares are a Solitary Affair

**Lightning Always Strikes Twice**

* * *

Chapter 3: Nightmares are a Solitary Affair

_"I really like it when a bad dream doesn't scare you...it inspires you instead."_

* * *

_Remember, a dragon will always, always, go for the kill._ Gobber's voice rang in my thoughts like a thousand synchronized drums.

"So why didn't you?" I asked no one in particular. I was back in the woods. The same place where I was attacked the previous night.

In my hands was something truly remarkable, a small black scale. There was no transparency to the black, even in the daylight it was like staring into the abyss. It was also incredibly smooth to touch, my thumb easily slid over the surface like ice on a cold snowy afternoon. It was the scale of a Night Fury. That much was certain.

"Maybe something scared it off last night? There were those wolves-" I snorted. Yeah wolves scaring off one of the most legendary dragons in existence. What was next, a squirrel making dad scream like a little girl?

The majority of people in my village would have called me insane; well they did anyway but that was beside the point. Most Vikings, if they were coming back to a place where they got attacked, would have come back seeking war and retribution. Me? Not so much. I just couldn't help it. Even with what happened right here, I still felt comfortable in this forest.

The trees didn't judge me; the rocks didn't sneer at me; the animals didn't treat me as if I were a contagious disease. I was just another member of the woods and accepted as such. No different from any fox, bear, or bird. It was an immensely satisfying experience.

Hence why I spent so much time here.

I threw the small scale into the air and caught it as it fell down with a swoosh of my hand. Maybe Astrid liked the color black, I-.

"Arrrrr!" I yelled out and threw the scale. With a light bang, it clattered against a rock. The same rock that I was pinned against last night. Throwing a venomous glare in its direction I stepped forward and reached down to grab the scale.

There was a bird singing away in a tree nearby. Its harmonic tune was definitely soothing, but at the same time disturbing. Not because of the song, or the singing, but because of the bird itself. No, it didn't have an extra head, three wings, or a lack of feathers on its rear end. There was nothing physically abnormal about the animal, except that it had followed me ever since I entered the forest, chirping away with strange swaying motions on its various perches. It never looked at me, but followed nonetheless. It was as if the avian creature simply enjoyed my company.

At least something did.

Ignoring the bird, I eyed the scale again. This time my mind didn't betray my thoughts and switch to Astrid, as I had no desire to think about her after what she said earlier; instead, they remained on the beast that shed this remarkable scale.

Thinking back to last night, I realized just how small the dragon was. I never got a clear look at it, but it was definitely smaller than a Monstrous Nightmare. And it was the most powerful dragon we knew of. Ha! I knew size wasn't everything, even if my people seemed to put so much focus on the mass of their muscles, here was proof that size didn't make the warrior.

I turned toward the singing bird to voice my thoughts. After all, at least it would listen to me. But as I turned my gaze toward the branch it had made a perch of, it stopped singing. The lack of music made the quiet of the forest apparent. Not as startling silent as the previous night, but more so than was normal.

The rapid flapping of wings and small feathers lightly falling to the ground told of the bird's departure.

Now, maybe I should have been concerned. This scene was eerily similar to the one the night before. But even so, I couldn't help it; I was curious. And besides, assuming the same dragon caused the silence, it didn't kill me before. Why would it now? Wait…maybe it came back to finish me off?

I gulped and gazed around the wooded path.

It probably wasn't even a dragon. Even if it was, it made no sense that the same dragon would come back. But, now that I thought about it, why was the dragon even there last night? Did it recognize the bola as a threat and wait to see if its owner would retrieve the weapon? No, there was no way the creature would do that. Half the village wouldn't think of doing that. There was no way a beast would have that level of mental cognition.

But, what if it did? All of my knowledge of the beasts had been from the villagers and traveling merchants. Maybe, just maybe, they had it wrong? No. They may not be very clever or logical, but the Vikings of Berk weren't oblivious. There was no way they could so ignorant about something as important and influential as that.

But what if they did miss it?

I closed my eyes and rapidly shook my head back and forth. This was stupid. Even if the creatures were somehow smart it didn't make any difference. They still pillaged and flew of with our property. We couldn't just lie down and let them take our food and get away with it. The beasts would rue the day they decided to raid us. It was inevitable, and I agreed with that at the very least. If I had to slay the monsters to protect what was important and show that I could help in the most pivotal way possible, I would. And if my fellow human beings could look at my face without disgust afterward, all the better.

My eyes flashed open with a new sense of conviction. Suddenly, this wooden journey just didn't seem crucial anymore. I needed to get back to Berk so I could start working on my weapons. My foot suddenly caught on something, and I fell into the ground with a thud and an outcry of surprise. Honestly, I didn't even realize that I had started to move; I guess the ideas formulating in my head were so appeasing that I started moving on instinct. What could I say? I loved to invent and create. There was something, magical about the whole process. From concept to sketch to completion it was like a child. They were born, they evolved, they changed. And then they grew up. That wasn't the saddest part either. There was always emotion of course, but it was of happiness. It was an amazing experience. Of course, in the end, mine usually died painful deaths but that was beside the point.

I quickly got up and wiped the dirt from my clothes. The tiny pebbles and soil took a few slaps to clear with their surprisingly stubborn grip.

Once satisfied with my appearance, I turned rapidly, my hair and vest lightly fluttering with my movement. Not wasting any time, my feet periodically struck and kicked up dirt in the road as I ran home. I had a perfect idea; I just needed to get it on paper. It was like my mind was a puddle after a rainstorm. Every second, the puddle was evaporating, and any distractions would be like a kid jumping right into the remaining water. I had to get home before it was all dried up. Gritting my teeth and with an expression of serious conviction, I forced my legs to pump harder and faster.

If I had taken my time, I may have noticed the fresh marks in the dirt. The road was clear when I first traveled back toward the place of that perilous meeting, nothing marred the smooth brown dirt other than the occasional rock or weed. But on my return to Berk, the path was littered with impressions. Not obsessively, but enough that something had crossed the trail at least two times. The tracks were the exact same size and shape as the ones I saw the previous night. Of course, in my impromptu haste the thought of looking down was never on my mind.

I was more focused on looking ahead.

* * *

"Think you can get up there hiccup?" Gobber's strong voice asked me.

Of course, before I could get inventing, I needed to deal with my obligation to help maintain the Kill Ring. Gobber wanted us to check the hanging chains and wires to make sure the web wouldn't allow for one of the beasts to escape. We had no idea when Stoneblood last performed an inspection and Gobber figured it was better safe than sorry.

"No problem, it doesn't look that hard to climb."

Gobber nodded. "Great, you check the higher ones, and I'll get the ones closer to the ground."

I turned around and looked at him with narrowed eyes. Avoiding danger was not part of Gobber; heck, his name practically meant mortal peril. Maybe he didn't want to lose his remaining limbs?

"Are you sure, Gobber? It looks pretty high, only a strong Viking would be able to take a fall like that."

"No Viking is able to take that fall Hiccup." Gobber said with slight hesitation. He was rubbing his chin with a frown on his face.

"That's even better: more risk is more fun," I said with cheer.

Gobber didn't respond.

"Come on Gobber," I said, surprised. This was very much unlike the large burly man. "You're not scared of heights, are you?"

"What! Of course not," the one-handed, one-legged Viking shouted. "It's just…you wouldn't understand."

I opened my mouth to refute that statement, when Gobber continued on with a wave of his hand. "Just stop Hiccup; I want to get this done and your useless prattle isn't helping. If you really need help, I can help your lazy butt."

I rolled my eyes and headed toward the edge of the web. It was not a new experience, the village loved to get on the deck and watch the young warriors in training take on the beasts. Decent entertainment, after all there was always the chance that someone would lose a limb.

Night was starting to fall. The last rays of light were disappearing on the horizon. Beautiful shades of orange and red reflected off the waves and danced hypnotically. It was similar to the great green, red, and blue lights that appeared in the sky some nights, mystical and picturesque. They were a sign of the gods showing their favor on those worthy and their judgement on those who betrayed them.

The day's final light gave me a different opinion of the Kill Ring. Sure, I never liked the place, but at nighttime it was humbling and horrifying. I actually felt bad for those creatures. At least during the day the sunlight would leak into their homes and give some hope. But the darkness would choke it away and leave them in a perpetual abyss. A life without hope was a life I wasn't sure was worth living. Then again, maybe the dragons, being the monsters they were, preferred the dark of night. I figured I would never know, but nonetheless I still felt bad for them, regardless of what they had done. Although, that thought was one that I would take to my grave. The last thing I needed was for anyone to find out. I suspected even Fishlegs would find my sympathy extremely strange and discording.

"Hiccup! Stop daydreaming and start helping you scallywag! This shouldn't take that long if you actually try." Gobber bombing voice filled my ears.

The beasts must have also heard it if the low, rumbling growling was anything to go by. But, they didn't attack their doors. Maybe they were tired? Or knew it would be pointless?

Shifting my focus forward, I started to shimmy up one of the metal ropes. I wasn't too worried about falling. Climbing had always been a strength of mine. My smaller mass made me lean and pulling my weight was, therefore, more feasible. Even with the other kids larger muscles, they had never been able to climb like me. It made wonderful escape material.

The inspection did not take that long. It was surprising really. There seemed like so much ground to cover, but, just as Gobber said, we finished within an hour and detected no problems. Well, Gobber had no problems, I had to deal with the problem of the man trying to kill me. I thought he was nervous about the task, but ten minutes in, he was trying to shake the web, so that I would fall, shouting about 'making me tougher.' If I didn't know the burly man better, I would have suspected that he planned the entire sequence of events. But that was not his style. His style was more shout and press forward no matter what. If there was a problem, he just hit it until it didn't complain anymore.

That was what I remembered of Dad's best friend from my earlier years. Although lately, he had started to get more calculating and deceiving, thinking more so than just rushing into trouble. He was still a battle-hungry, axe-swinging Viking of course, but he was changing. So maybe planning it all out wasn't as out of reach as I suspected.

Later on in the inspection, I finished with the top part of the web before the large man could finish his piece of the pie. We had made a competition of it, and I won, so, naturally, I gloated. Gobber answered by throwing a few axes and spears at me. The throws were sporadic and casual, but it still made me squeal.

That was definitely Gobber's style.

Now that we concluded our work, we were getting ready to go to the mead hall for dinner. I was hungry and had not eaten all day; food sounded amazing right then. Of course, once Gobber turned toward me all thoughts of nourishment disappeared faster than a child after they dropped the family heirloom.

That smirk, that trickily, deep, deadly, manipulative smirk was back.

"So Hiccup, where did you go? I missed you." Gobber's voice was smooth; smoother than the ale he would be drinking in just a short few minutes.

"Oh," I asked hesitantly. Without even knowing what was going on, I knew we were already sailing into dangerous waters, the tone of his voice gave it away.

"Oh yeah." Gobber chuckled, and his eyes twinkled like a star in the sky. "I had to fed the beasts on my own. My assistant flew away like a little birdy before I realized it"

Oh crap, when he said 'you are dismissed' after the dragon training, he must not have meant me. Oops. I gulped and eyed him cautiously as if he was a wolf getting ready to attack. "So what are you going to do about this little bird," I asked. "Surly, a man of your stature needs a more impressive pet?"

"Oh not at all. It's hard for me to admit," he put his hand-claw over his heart, "but I really do like my bird. I think I'll just have to clip its wings." He winked at me.

I was only half right. The waters were definitely dangerous, the problem was I didn't release the boat had capsized as well.

"So," I asked slowly, "what would an operation like that entail?"

"Oh it's very easy. All it involves is a scrawny bird feeding the miserable beasts their food tomorrow morning." Gobber paused for a moment to breathe before he opened his mouth to speak again, but I beat him to it.

"I really hope I'm not supposed to be the food." I internally winced; I couldn't help it, sometimes I just spoke without thinking.

Thankfully, Gobbers chest rumbled in hearty laughter at my cheek. He may have found it amusing, but Dad would have been pissed.

"We've been over this Hiccup. You have no fat on you, it would be a waste, and you'd taste terrible. Although, lean meat would be better for them." Gobber was rubbing chin in contemplation.

"Concerned about their dietary needs now Gobber? Careful, soon you'll make one a pet and have it assist you in your nefarious deeds." I said dramatically moving my arms in large circles.

"Could you image having one of them beasts as a pet? Would never have to worry about being cold in the winter. And those pesky solicitors. Ha!" Gobber said cheerfully. "Too bad their just mindless monsters eh?"

Were they? That thought again. It didn't matter, so why did I keep bringing it up?

"Anyway, I'm starving so we should wrap this up. Hiccup, I need yeah to grab the food from the docks and fed the beasts. Just slip the food under the flaps in the doors." Gobber added after a second, "Be careful though, the clever buggers sometimes shoot fire out of it to try and cook yeah."

If they're clever, how can they be mindless? Stop brain, just stop thinking about it.

I said, "Okay, sounds simple enough. But where are you going to be?"

Gobber rubbed his hands gleefully, "I have a morning hike planned for our would-be-dragon-slayers. If they want to be the pride of the village, they're going to have to earn it."

Oh thanks you worthless man. Leave me alone with angry, fire-breathing, bored lizards. What a wonderful way to start my day. Maybe next time you'll let me invite them over for an afternoon drink.

I stumbled as Gobber's meaty, muscular hand hit me on the back. "I'll let your transgression slide this one time, but if you slip up again I'll make you wish you were my pet bird."

What does a threat like that even mean? The ideas that started to formulate in my mind were anything but comforting. I really hoped I was just a messed up kid, and the ideas were coming from the dark recesses of a troubled mind, but Gobber's punishments never failed to exceed expectations.

Like there was this one time with a tree, a sheep, some rope and Gobber's undies where he…actually, I don't even want to think about it.

Thankfully, Gobber had already started to head toward the Mead Hall, whistling a merry little tone about blood, guts and honor, so he didn't see me shiver and shake uncontrollably for a second.

Just as I started to head after him a voice, one I really didn't want to hear, cut into the brisk evening air like a knife through butter.

"Hey cuz hold up a second, we want to ask you something!"

Snotlout. Great and to add insult to injury was Gobber's dismissive wave and voice saying, "see yeah at the Mead Hall kid."

Sighing, I turned around and noticed not just my favorite relative but his bumbling, manic of a friend, Tuffnut, as well.

"You know," Snotlout said as he came to a stop in front of me, "night time is the time when most kiddies disappear, never to be seen again."

"Except by a dragon of course," Tuffnut's harsh voice added, "they love to gobble up little lost children for midnight snacks."

The two thugs broke into a chorus of snorting and light laughing. I even let out a short bark of laughter. Not because it was funny, quite the contrary actually.

They had no idea how close to I'd come to that fate last night.

"Which is why it's a bad time for me to disappear cousin. Everyone will suspect it. Come on, we're related, you must have some semblance of intelligence."

Snotlout blinked in confusion before snarling. He was actually pretty good at it. "Don't try to make a fool out of me! It'll be a lot more painful for you if you do."

"Yeah, we have some nasty things we could do to you, so don't test our mercy you little rat," Tuffnut added.

I rolled my eyes. I very much doubted they even knew what mercy was; hint, Snots-a-lot, it was not beating up your Cousin.

"Yeah, yeah, lets just get on with it Snot-" I gasped as the wind was knocked out of my stomach by a punch from Snotlout, and I fell to my knees.

Tuffnut said, "don't think we are going to go easy on you, Failcup, just because you hurt your neck trying to play Viking."

So, earlier you guys were talking about saving my honor and avenging me and now you are using it as a weakness. Why are Viking politics so darn complicated? I swear I am never going to figure them out. Every time I try I just get more confused.

"This doesn't have to be hard Hiccup." Snotlout said and picked me up and set me on my feet. He then patted my shoulders as if he was knocking dirt off and said, "so, don't make it harder than it is."

Tuffnut quickly said, "of course, if you want it rough, I'm totally ready for it loser."

My brawny Cousin shot a look of pure venom at Tuffnut, who merely glared in response. For a second, I thought they might fight or argue with each other and give me a chance to slip away. However, no such luck for me. What a surprise, right?

"Ignore, wolf brain over there-"

I interrupted, "wolves are smart Cousin."

Why, oh why couldn't I just keep my mouth shut? Maybe, Dad was right, and I was cursed after all.

Snotlout grabbed my shoulders and squeezed hard. Burning hot pain shot into them and I gasped in agony like a landlocked fish. I would have fallen to my knees if Snotlout wasn't holding me up.

"You're not helping yourself." Snotlout said in a calm tone, but the narrowed slits of his eyes betrayed his anger. "Now that I've got your attention and your ears." He let go of my left shoulder and grabbed my left ear.

My eyes expanded in fright like a child who was just told the story of a ghost. It was easy to do irreversible damage to ears – especially since my Cousin didn't know his own strength.

"You are going to apologize to Astrid for your cheek. And you are going to stay away from her." Snotlout said.

Yeah, because those aren't mutually exclusive, right? Thankfully, I just managed to keep the thought to myself.

My captor was not done. "She is my girl," he practically growled out. "You got that. Not that you stand a chance of course. She is way above your league."

Trust me, I am quite aware Cousin. Her cold shoulders and icy glares were all I needed to confirm it. Unlike you, I can take a hint. Honestly, I had no idea if Astrid even liked anyone. See was so serious and focused on becoming a great warrior that I don't think she even thought about it. It was as if she didn't have hormones.

My Cousin smiled. It was similar to the smile a predator gave its prey. "I'm so glad we could have this chat. I'm not sure about you, but I feel a whole lot better." He released me from his grip and slung his arm over my throbbing shoulder. "Unfortunately, you were a naughty boy and talked back to your superiors, so we are going to have to punish you cuz. Its okay, don't cry, we are doing this for your own good. You'll thank us someday."

What I would have given for the opportunity to wipe the smirk off his face.

Suddenly, Snotlout nodded toward Tuffnut who disappeared behind me. Without warning, they both grabbed opposite arms and started to drag me. The fire from my shoulders felt as if it was spreading down my arms like a poison in my veins. It was hard to see in the eclipsing daylight, but they were not heading toward the bridge, and there was only one other place in the area. The Kill Ring.

"What are you doing," I shouted in a terrified panic. I kicked and struggled, but there was no escape from their ironclad grip.

They both laughed cruelly, and Tuffnut said, "don't worry dragon dung, we are going to leave you somewhere where you can fit right in."

Oh no.

I fought as much as I could muster, but they were both stronger than me and had all the leverage on me. I wiggled like a worm and struggled like a kid before bath time, but their grip stayed firm, and all I got was a split lip and a few sore ribs. Eventually, I just gave up, there was no point, both of them were stronger and faster than me, so if they wanted me go somewhere that was where I was going.

We crossed the threshold of the Kill Ring and headed into the pit of terrors. Reaching the center of the arena, the two teenage bullies threw me into the ground face first. I felt something wet land on my back and knew one of them had spit on me.

"This is where you belong you useless excuse of a Viking." Snotlout growled. "Here, you're with your peers." A few of the doors rattled as the dragons inside combated with them.

"Hahaha." Tuffnut said, "You're too much of a freak even for them. That's how pathetic you are. At least they're strong, but you're only strong enough to become their crap you pathetic failure of a person."

Both of them threw their heads back and howled with laughter. Without another look at me, they walked away. I kept my eyes focused on the ground right in front of me, there were small symmetric circles seemingly carved into the stone. However, my gaze snapped open and my body jumped to a standing position when the clang of metal hit stone with force. I gave a small meow of pain at my sudden movement and turned toward the entrance.

Both Snotlout and Tuffnut were standing on the other side of the door they just closed watching me through the metal bars with wacky grins on their faces as if they were proud of what they had done. They knew, just as I did, that with the weight of that gate, there was no way I would be strong enough to lift it and escape; I was trapped.

"Remember Hiccup, don't stay up too late playing, you need to get your rest after all." Snotlout said as he and Tuffnut headed up the ramp away from the Kill Ring roaring in laughter.

I called and pleaded for them to come back and release me. I offered them all sorts of things I owned and some I didn't.

The only answer I got was a distant crack of thunder and the sounds of trees swaying in the light wind.

Now, usually, this whole ordeal wouldn't even been of concern. Normally, the town stationed guards to watch the Kill Ring all the time. However, with the huge hunt, Berk was running with a skeleton crew, and since we had never had a break out from the Kill Ring, one of the first posts to go was the guards.

And Gobber said he wasn't going to stop by in the morning since he was working with his class. It was very possible that no one would know where I was until midday tomorrow.

So, I did the only thing I could think of: I waited. And waited some more.

It was amazing how slow time traveled, slower even than a man delaying the laundry, and if the prosecution of the moon was anything to go by there was still an age before dawn. The moon was an interesting thing though; old stories believed that the dragons had some obsession with the strange, mystical orb in the sky. Their rain of destruction always radiated in the silvery glow as if they were retribution from the gods. People used to believe that, weak people that was, they used to give sacrifices to the beasts, trying to appease some manner of mercy from their wrath. No one knew how those tales ended; today, they were myths, legends to rattle the insecure.

We knew for sure that the part about the moon was fictitious. The screech of their battle call was not correlated to any ethereal clock, to any measure that we knew of. Sometimes, the assaults came during the waning hours of night; sometimes, it was right after the suns last breaths. However, even through all the chaos, all their random patterns, there was one constant, one absolute: they always attacked in a swarm, a throng of wings and devastation.

The ground was getting hard, so I propped myself up with my elbows. I was sick of lying down in the Kill Ring, but there wasn't a lot to do here. I had examined the gate an hour or so earlier, but that only confirmed my helplessness. Why no one ever thought to put in an escape switch or something was beyond my reckoning, but then again, they probably never assumed someone of my, outstanding, strength would ever find themselves in this situation.

Slowly a sound crept into the newborn night, not in any explicit manner, but with a slow buildup like an old man's anger. Not that the sound was reticent, or even constant; instead, it came in short bursts ever few moments. The sound was like that of a scowled child, but much more coarse and thick as if it were spoken from the throat.

The noise was originating from behind the large iron door second from the left.

My muscles moved of their own free will, and I stepped cautiously toward the origin of the sound. My feathery steps muffled the clicks of my shoes on the ground as I walked, but my heart was raging like a thunderstorm.

It was obvious what was making the sound. After all, there wasn't a huge selections of creatures in the Kill Ring with me.

But that couldn't be right. The sounds were that of a frightened and worried animal.

A monster didn't get terrified; a monster didn't cry.

Was that what the dragon was doing? Crying? It sure sounded like it or was it something else. I wondered if dragons even could cry. Some animals obviously could, but there were many, sometimes I joked one of them were Vikings, that lacked the tear ducts to do so.

The beast suddenly howled, a long, yearning call that reverberated into the quiet night like a horn at a funeral. It was impressive how well it traveled considering the foot of stone between the dragon and me.

The door was cold to the touch, just like anything else in the ring, but I didn't even notice. Right when my hand connected, the animals' pitch and volume jerked as if it had just become accustomed to my presence. It tried to growl, but the attempt that came out of its mouth was pathetic to say the least, it sounded more like a poorly tuned dog than a dragon.

I have no idea why, but I made a shushing sound at the beast just like my mother used to do to me, subconsciously trying to calm the upset creature.

The dragon's cries turned into a whine-like-growl that slowly decreased in volume like a withering stream in a desert. Eventually, it ran dry and relative silence was all I could hear. There was still the breathing of the dragon and light periodic barks, but that was it.

"Wow," I said out loud in awe. Did that just happen?

I slowly stumbled back, tripping and bumbling away from the cage with a cheeky grin on my face. Of course, some deity obviously wasn't happy with my joviality and the infamous Hiccup luck struck like a wolf in the night. My back pressed up against something long, cylindrical and metal, and it moved with the pressure I applied to it. The chains above twisted and moved like a large distorted snake as the gears did the work of a dozen men and the log that held its query captive like a spider with a web moved upward at an absurdly fast rate.

Of course, I couldn't have accidentally walked into the lever for the crying, emotional dragon. No, that would have been too easy, but then again, maybe the dragon had friendly neighbors?

The log went flying into the air swinging precariously like a monkey on a vine, the creaking of gears and chains echoing loudly into the air. For a moment, I wondered if the village would hear it, hoped they would hear it. The large iron door opened as if on its own. It didn't burst open, it didn't even open fast; instead, it opened like a child testing to see if their parents were awake, or a prisoner checking to see if its warden were watching.

I stared into that dark abyss of a cell and, for a moment, wondered if it were empty or abandoned, but that thought was gone in a flash. Not because anything spectacular happened, but because there was obviously something in there, I just had no idea what it was in the darkness of its home.

The next instant, something spectacular did happen. Fire reflected in my eyes as an inferno erupted in front of me like a building going up in flame. I threw myself against the wall, crumpled down to the ground, grabbed my knees and tried to make myself as small as possible as the creature burst out of its prison in a spectacular display.

Two Monstrous Nightmares in just as many days? Wow, I was going to have to examine my life, the gods were obviously displeased and trying to tell me something.

Monstrous Nightmares were feared for many reasons. Now, I use the word fear here, as most Vikings, even though they would deny it religiously, have some reserves of anxiety for this type of dragon. Except my Dad of course, but he was almost as weird as me, just in a good way.

Anyway, Monstrous Nightmares were gigantic, powerful and exceptionally perilous to human health. It was rare to see more than a half-dozen or so of the creatures at any one time; in fact, I could remember raids where there were none of them at all, and even when there were they acted different from the other dragons. They had a tendency to go out of their way for the high-profile targets, the strong Vikings. They were forceful, dangerous foes that even the sturdiest and most fortuitous of Vikings needed to be careful dealing with. Of course, due to their solitary and aggressive nature, it was much easier to simply trick and trap the creatures. The recommended method of containment was to group up and tackle together, which is why the whole kill-a-Monstrous-Nightmare tradition in the Kill Ring showed a level of ineptitude I usually reserved for bugs.

See, I actually liked Monstrous Nightmares. Well, more so than most dragons at least and from a distance of course. Something about their large wings and body proportion was just cool, and the whole igniting themselves on fire, like they were coated with fish oil, was awesome, I always wondered how they did that. The things I would be able to invent if I had some inkling of a clue were my highest levels of fantasy.

The Monstrous Nightmare rampaged around the arena with small speckles of fire falling off it like the pine needles of an evergreen tree. The arena and me shook as the creature assaulted the iron and chains, with its head snapping around widely, eyes narrowed as if it were looking for something. Eventually, the creature stopped fumbling around and came to a stop still hanging on to the chains which were bobbing up and down from the impact of the dragon. Its yellow eyes were slits as it examined the area and slowly extinguished its fire. The fire fell off the beast like water squeezed from a wrinkled rag and, with nothing to use for fuel, the flames disintegrated and disappeared long before they hit the ground.

Suddenly, those orbs, the one the dragon called eyes, locked with my own. Deep powerful reds pierced my own like a window into my soul, like the dragon knew the answer to all my woes, goals, and fears. Even though my own gaze focused entirely on the creatures gleaming eyes, I noticed, out of my peripheral vision, that the dragon had a grueling, deep scar on its left cheek that went from its mouth up toward its ear.

The Monstrous Nightmare plopped on the ground and stepped toward me. Then suddenly, it paused mid step like a rabbit caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, and its scaly head snapped away and aimed toward the sky.

I was only confused for a second, and then I heard it: an irritating screech, one that grew in intensity from a little annoyance to a downright ear-shattering, high-pitched monstrosity.

The call reached its climax and exploded out into the night, and a shot of pure, sapphire blue landed somewhere out of my vision but obviously nearby. The impact rattled the chains and caused the Monstrous Nightmare to bend down and growl ferociously. The rest of the cages were strangely quiet, but I heard a few rumbling snarls from the other dragons after the attack.

What had the Night Fury been aiming at? There were a few towers and things around the Kill Ring, but nothing that a dragon would be interested in attacking. There was no livestock, no food supplies, not even complicated wooden buildings that would explode in a shower of sparks, just some rock, dirt, iron and the nearby woods.

For a second, I thought maybe it had been off target, but that was foolish. There were only a few things we knew about Night Furies and one was that they never missed.

After the shot, the Monstrous Nightmare's body was alert and tense like a cat that was getting ready to defend itself. A few seconds later, the statue-like dragon relaxed and slouched down from its position. Of course, it must have just remembered who else was in the Kill Ring as it turned toward me and stared, eyes flashing with intelligence.

As if the beast had made up its mind, the muscles in its legs tensed, and the dragon took a tentative step toward me. It took another.

My breathing started to accelerate like a rock thrown off a ledge as the Monstrous Nightmare smoothly approached. The clicks of its claw on the ground felt as if they were hammering into my mind. Once the dragon was only a few steps away, I fearfully put up my hands and started to mumble and plead incoherently. Pausing for a moment, the dragon's two eyes crossed lightly as it focused on my hand and then on me. Its eyes shifted back and forth and narrowed, not in anger but as if lost in thought, as I slowly tried to back away from the creature. My back hit the wall of the ring with a thud, and I did the only thing I could think of, I nervously chuckled and smiled.

The dragon blinked and widened its eyes. Then it tilted its head lightly to the side and lifted a leg up before suddenly stopping. Its eyes narrowed again but this time they seemed to lose their focus. With a roar, the creature turned rapidly, swinging its tail around like a flail. I ducked under the attack and looked up at the dragon, but it wasn't watching me; instead, its luminescent eyes were examining the lip of the Kill Ring as if it expected an adversary to appear any moment.

That was when I heard the voices and the clanking of steel.

The villagers must have seen the glow from the Monstrous Nightmare or heard the roar of the Night Fury. Something from the commotion drew them to me, and honestly, I didn't care what it was.

Looking back over its shoulder, the dragon eyed me and growled lightly as if it were thinking. For a second, I wondered if a dragon would understand the concept of a hostage. I shook my head rapidly to clear the stupid thought. There was no way that was possible. Even if they were smart, they couldn't be that smart.

Right?

Thankfully, the reinforcements thundering march drew the dragons attention from me. It was one thing I loved about being a Viking, the preparation, the sound, heck, even the smell of iron, steel and sweet was something I found extremely favorable; it made me feel safe.

The light from the torches poured over the edge of the pit, illuminating the Kill Ring like the sun would lighten a darkened room. The increased light made it easy to see the features and details of the enraged dragon in front of me. It was quite apparent how far gone the creature was. It was thrashing around, body as tense as the rope in a catapult, and its eyes showcased more anger than my dad when he found out I set the house on fire.

I made sure to make myself as small as possible, with the other dragons raging and shaking their prisons, and the inevitable arrival of humans, it was unlikely the dragon would notice me again, but one couldn't be too careful. And there was my luck to take into account.

As I watched the stomping beast, I wondered, would they kill the dragon? Why did it even matter, it was just a dragon. But, it was my fault that it was even in trouble, I had let it out, accidentally sure, but it was still my fault, killing it wouldn't be right. I didn't care what it had done earlier if it wasn't killed due to its previous crimes then it didn't deserve to die now. Period. Besides, a creature as majestic as a Monstrous Nightmare shouldn't be killed like a pet trapped in a cage, it should go out in a blaze of glory and fire as the proud creature it was.

The Vikings charged into the Kill Ring. The beast roared and reared on its back feet, but it didn't attack. Actually, it wasn't even watching the sudden arrivals; it was staring right at me. The Vikings wasted no time and quickly subdued the dragon that didn't even look like it put up a fight. Instead, it looked confused. And it was still watching me.

"Hiccup!" Gobber's voice shouted out in surprise. "What in Thor's name are you doing in here?"

The large Viking rushed over to me with shock on his face.

I sighed and then dramatically said, "it's a long story. Don't worry about it."

Gobber aggressively grabbed my shoulders and I winced in pain. The muscular man forced me to look him in the eyes. "You will tell me later, and it better not have been one of your stupid ideas."

"Look, Tuffnut and Snotlout thought it would be funny to lock me in here and then big and ugly got out."

"Did they now." Gobbers voice was as hot as hellfire. Anyone on the receiving end would have been burned. "I will worry about that, you need to get out of here and get some food and sleep."

Gobber pushed me away, and I stumbled up the ramp, slightly dazed and overwhelmed by the events that I had endured. Once at the top, I turned and glanced back down into the pit. I could just make out the conversation Gobber and another Viking were engaged in.

"-dragon had killed Hiccup, I don't even want to think what Stoick would have done."

"Wait, it was that dragon?" the other Viking asked carefully.

"Yes, it was that dragon. Stoick can never hear of this." Gobber said with force.

The other Viking waved him off. "Yeah, Yeah-"

Gobber grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into the wall and growled out, "you don't get it, Stoick can never hear of this, I have no idea how he might react, but it wouldn't be good regardless."

Even though I could hear them clearly, I wasn't really listening to the two Vikings bicker; the dragon drew my attention instead. It wasn't even fighting its captors as they dragged it back to its stony prison. No, it looked right at me the entire time with its large yellow and red eyes. Even once inside its cell, those orbs were still lightly lit in the darkness, like two small hovering candles, and they were still locked with mine. Finally, the slamming of iron doors and the lowering of the wooden log broke our gaze.

The knowing that had shined in the dragons eyes was like that of the village elder, deep and intelligence – a well of wisdom. It took a long time for the oblivion of sleep to take me that night.


	6. Logic and Lunacy

**Lightning Always Strikes Twice**

* * *

Chapter 4: Logic and Lunacy

_"It is in your moments of decision that your destiny is shaped."_

* * *

Why was life so complicated?

No, seriously, why the heck was everything so messed up. Life was supposed to be simple. Be born, play around, grow up, slay your enemies and die with honor. So why was my life not going according to plan, like, at all?

I was weak, smart and in a midlife crisis during my teenage years. Not exactly the best of circumstances.

Gobber's forge was always a nice place to loiter and vent though. Sleep had been spotty at best; my mind and thoughts were running in so many directions it was like trying to sleep in the Mead Hall; which, while possible, was not an easy accomplishment.

In my hands were the results of my boredom. The creation was a small metal sheet shaped like a dragon that was no longer than my arm. Well, it had wings, a tail, and a head, and it looked much more dragon-like than avian, so there was that at least.

It was also a symbol for my dilemma; dragons simply would not get off my mind. After the previous night, I was surer than ever that there was more to them, I just needed to dig deeper. There was no way a being could have that knowing tint in its eyes if it didn't have the mental aptitude for deducing what was going on.

I sighed and glanced up and around the forge. It was still a mess – Gobber's personal pig stout – but I was starting to understand the beauty in it. The rotting wood in the upper front corner, the half made weapons and blobs of melted steel that formed all manners of shapes, the cloth cover on the window to the left side that had more holes than one of Snotlout's plans; or the other window that wasn't part of the architect's plan but, thanks to some winged, fire-breathing carpenters, got added whether Gobber wanted it or not. But the dilapidation of the forge was something that Gobber seemed to revel in, and I just now understood why. Imperfection always brought perspective on what you were doing and reminded you that things could always be worse.

But, by that logic, they could always be better.

The first rays of light and the accompanying call of the rooster brought my mind back to earth. Gobber left a while ago giggling and dragging all sorts of traps and weapons with him toward the woods. Honestly, I was content with letting him have his fun as long as I could avoid it for as long as possible. Besides, I would probably hear about all of the trials and tribulations that my peers went through later so I felt no need to prompt the burly man for information on his games.

Squeezing myself around the pile of weapons and scrap, I managed to escape the forge. However, pressure in my hand drew my eyes, and I blinked as I glanced down. My simple metal dragon figurine was gripped tight in my hand like a child with his mother on a busy street.

I narrowed my eyes at the piece of art and almost dropped it, but something swayed my hand. For whatever reason, I simply tucked it under my arm and started to head toward the docks.

The village was in its typical morning state. In other words, it was still rolling around on the bed and having trouble opening its eyes. The light was just careening over the horizon illuminating the morning dew like stars in a crystal-clear night sky. Even the roofs were sparkling due to the torrential downpour last night, and that meant that the buildings would need to undergo inspections. Or, should undergo inspections, but we Vikings had a tendency to get lazy. I didn't blame any of them; after all, I had no desire to spend time on something so mundane. Worse, come to worse the roof collapsed and you slept without one for a few nights. Really, during the summer, it wasn't that big of a deal.

Journeying to the docks was always fun because Berk was built on razor-sharp cliffs and the pier was at a substantially lower elevation compared to the rest of the village. It made a great place for barrel riding as a kid; our parents never did anything to stop it since getting hurt built character. Honestly, I think they just remembered doing it themselves and found policing it undesirable.

Now, the warehouse I needed to get to was also down by the docks. Most of our storehouses were up in the main village as that deterred raids from nearby rivals due to the increased difficulty and chance of failure. But this warehouse was in a small cove down near the docks. The rock outcrop cusped inward, and we build into it like an ant into the ground, which made this warehouse, in my opinion, the coolest building in Berk. And because stone encompassed half the walls, the building was incredibly stable and resilient to dragon attacks.

Whistling, well, more like attempting to whistle, I waved to the zombie-like early risers as they stumbled around rubbing their eyes, and rejoiced in the feeling of my fresh muscles. Even with my lack of sleep, the clarity and energy I felt was like a child on Snoggletog or Gobber on the mornings when he didn't drink a barrel the night before.

Of course, right as I was about to turn the corner and enter the warehouse my heart fluttered into my stomach like butterflies on a summer afternoon from the harmonic tones that floated through the air.

"-it even matter?"

A much rougher, yet not quite deep, voice answered, "Astrid you really should tell someone, it's not right."

"Just stop Fishlegs, I'm not telling anyone. I'm not some weak pity-seeking mongrel."

"It's not weak to accept help, but it does take, like plus ten stupidity to ignore it."

His response impressed me. I agreed of course, but that was a pretty unvikingish thing to say. After all, to us, stupidity was the norm, not the exception, and help was a more alienated concept than befriending a dragon.

"What did you say?" Astrid's voice made my squirm in a completely different way; her tone was so cold, it froze not just my heart, but my blood and soul as well.

Fishlegs, however, was not intimidated. "You heard me Astrid."

Astrid said, "No, I really didn't. Could you repeat it for me tough guy?" I couldn't see Astrid because a wall was in the way, but I could just image her slowly approaching the larger Viking with her axe swinging casually by her side.

"I was wrong, you're actually plus twelve stupid Astrid and your pride will be your downfall."

I had to hand it to Fishlegs; it took some serious guts to say that to Astrid, she didn't take crap like that. But, maybe they were better friends than they let on?

"Oh, and I guess the gods talked to you and told you I'm going to collapse and become a mockery worse than Hiccup right?" Astrid laughed and then said, "I would never, ever let myself become like that weak, spineless fool."

Her words felt like a sword cutting right into my body; my chest actually hurt and I grabbed my shirt causing it to wrinkle in my grip as my knuckles turned white. How could words hurt so badly? And why did they? She was a total jerk to me, and I still couldn't shake these feelings. I felt it as if I were a nestling bird that fell out of the nest and was unable to fly back up.

"What in the great sea does this have to do with Stoick's son?"

Even with my slightly raspy breathing, I cracked a smile. Only Fishlegs would be smart enough to remind Astrid just whose lineage she was insulting. Maybe we could be friends again someday, I would like that.

"I won't let myself be like him." Now Astrid's voice was quieter as if she was uncertain or nervous herself. I hadn't heard that tone since she was five and a fox killed her pet.

"Astrid, this has nothing to do with Hiccup, no matter what you think of him. This has to do with you and the fact that you're-"

Okay that was enough. I had no idea what Fishlegs was getting at, but he was about to talk about Astrid's secret and, honestly, I couldn't take that away from her. It wasn't honorable to sneak behind someone's back like that. They deserved their privacy if they wanted it, so I did the only thing that made any sense and walked forward to greet them.

"Hey guys!" I interrupted with cheer and a skip to my step. I also waved for good measure. "I'm surprised to see you guys, after all-"

"What are you doing here?" It was as if Astrid's voice had taken a dive right into the freezing ocean. The obvious hostility and annoyance made me pause and double guess myself.

"Uh, getting food?" I asked nervously with my smile falling to a concerned, almost-smirk-like expression.

"Why would you need to get food, just go to the mead hall you idiot? We can't have you sacrifice valuable food on the stupid schemes and pathetic ideas that swim around your overinflated head," Astrid said.

Wow, Astrid was extremely agitated. She never spoke to me like that; she preferred to simply ignore me as if interacting would cause her to catch some incurable, contagious disease.

Any feelings of bugs in my stomach were immediately squashed with her declaration.

"Sorry Astrid, I'm just doing what Gobber asked me to do. I have to get the nourishment for the dragons somewhere. And the produce here is what I was told to get. Why are you here?" I snapped back.

"Nourishment for dragons!" Astrid squealed out loudly and irritably. "You traitor, we need that food!"

Astrid lunged at me, obviously with the intent to do something unfavorable, but Fishlegs quickly grabbed her.

The stubby Viking said, "If we don't give them at least minus five hunger Astrid they won't be able to use their fire. How are we supposed to train against crippled beasts?"

The flailing Astrid, who looked like an angry, wiggling cat with the way her limbs were flopping around in Fishleg's grip, stopped and brought a hand to her chin.

"Still a dumb idea, but whatever, as long as it helps me fight better, I'll take it," Astrid said.

"You know, Gobber is probably wondering where you two are. You guys were supposed to meet him by the Mead Hall about, oh, a few minutes ago." The pleasure I got from Astrid's response put me in a more cheerful mood than I would ever admit to anyone.

Her eyes grew to a comical size and her gaze flashed around like a bunny looking for a predator. She even grabbed her axe and subconsciously held it to her chest as if it were some sharp, iron teddy bear.

"Yeah." Fishlegs chuckled. "We should probably get going. Come on Astrid-"

The two of us were already alone, the sound of feet running on wood quite clear like some periodic, basic melody. You know, like the ones that become annoying after only about six or seven seconds and make you want to tear your ears off.

Fishlegs shook his head back and forth, amusement drawn on his features like paint on an artist's canvas. "Catch you later, Hiccup."

But I wasn't listening to him; in fact, I didn't even see nor hear him leave. Instead, I was realizing that I was wrong, the queasy feeling in my stomach hadn't disappeared, my anger just overpowered it. But watching Astrid run up the path toward the village with her well-toned legs and golden locks waving in the gentle gusts made the feelings return with more force than one of Gobber's hugs.

Life just couldn't be simple could it? After all, from all my experience girls just made everything more complicated. Dad, with a sly smirk, had told me that would change soon and had nudged me on the shoulder. I, of course, had fallen over and sprained my ankle. We had yet to bring up the topic again.

Sighing – I seem to be doing more of that lately, it must be directly correlated to age or something – I headed into the warehouse. It was always fun coming in here. The building, since it followed the outcrop of the cliff, was not a simple rectangle like the others; instead, one wall followed some wacky, wavy pattern that, naturally, meant the goods became befuddled and mixed like a child's bedroom. And like a child's bedroom, only the culprit themself seemed to know where everything was.

"What is that kiddo?" Like most Vikings, the voice was thick and raspy, as if the owner had a cold or something stuck in their throat.

The owner himself was nothing too spectacular, green eyes, long, full beard and a horned hat. Burly arms, thick legs and heavy fur-adored leather decorated his body. Just, typically Viking fare. His name was Boregut the Brine. They called him that because, apparently, right after he was born he was dropped into the ocean and came to the surface giggling and splashing with his tiny arms, even though his fingers and toes were turning pink and an icicle was forming from his nose.

Seeing the expectant, curious glance and stubby finger pointing at something under my arm I responded, "oh this?" I shifted the iron dragon from under my armpit and handed it to the overbearing man. "Just something I made."

"Hmm, it looks like a…no, not that, maybe a…no, not that either. Kid, what kind of dragon is this supposed to be?" the man asked with one eye closed and his head slightly tilted to one side as he examined the small sheet-like statue.

I made the thing with no species in mind, but the smooth snout, bat-like wings and short aerodynamic body could only remind me of one dragon; one that I caught the barest of glimpses of one night as its sharpened claws cut into my neck.

Subconsciously, I felt the fresh bandage that I wore around my neck. After a moment, I said, "honestly, I have no idea."

The man shrugged and handed the dragon back. "Well, I would say you should work on that, but you need to do more productive things. Go out and fight with some friends. That is always a good way to pass the time. And," he winked at me, "a good way to deal with frustration."

Mentally, I smiled. It was nice that no matter how messed up and topsy-turvy everything was lately, Vikings were still Vikings. "That's not a bad idea," I said.

"Yup, it's a great one." Boregut hit me on the back, and I somehow managed to stand my ground without stumbling or flinching. "I've used it for years, and it has never led me astray." The Viking continued on immediately, "What are you doing here anyway?"

It took me a second to remember. I set the metal sculpture down on a nearby barrel and said, "I'm here to pick up the food for the dragons in the Kill Ring."

Recognition flashed in Boregut's eyes. "Oh that, no problem the food should be over there." The man pointed toward three baskets near the entrance. "Stoneblood is a strange man and likes to get it early, so I usually put the food out the night before."

I nodded in affirmative and said, "awesome."

"All right, I gotta go and settle a disagreement with a buddy of mine; he owes me a fish after that last catastrophe of his," Boregut said. "I'll see yeah, good luck smashing some heads later!"

Boregut waddled out of the storehouse, his boots thumping on the wooden docks as he headed out of my vision. So prominent was his swaying that, for a moment, I wondered if he were drunk or something. Meh, even if he were, I wasn't complaining, he talked to me, when most of the village would have shrugged and grunted and sent me on my way. It was nice to hear people talk, other than Gobber of course; hearing only my mentor's dulcet voice got old.

Light from the front of the building broke through the windows like light would the canopy of a forest. It reflected and bounced off my little metal dragon like bugs on water forming all sorts of interesting, yet dim, patterns of light on the nearby fish.

Snorting to try to remove the stench that was crawling its way into my nostrils, I quickly grabbed my toy and tossed it on one of the baskets. Unfortunately, the baskets were too large and heavy for me to carry all together. I was going to have to take three different trips. Whatever, it's not like exercise hurt anyone.

The conveying went extremely well. The sea air lightly burned my lungs, and the pressure on my back and the calls of the seagulls made for a relaxing morning. While my fellow Vikings couldn't take the mornings in stride, I enjoyed watching the sun rise and the yellows, oranges and reds morph and shift on the light ocean waves only being disturbed by jumping, overzealous fish and the few boats that cut through the water like an axe through brush.

Finally, with a huff, I dropped the last piece of my query at the entrance to the Kill Ring.

I still needed to enter the ring, but after getting stuck last night, the gate at the entrance seemed so absolute and imposing. Like a mouse watching an approaching snake, I just stared at the iron monstrosity for what felt like an eternity. Maybe I could-

I am so freaking dumb! Like dumber than Snotlout dumb. Yes, that dumb. Last night, I could have just used an axe, or spear or something – it wasn't as if there were a lack of weapons in the Kill Ring – to prop up the door and use the leverage to open it and escape.

Growling with frustration, I moved into the Kill Ring dragging one of the baskets. The metal door, now that I knew how to beat it felt similar to a declawed, toothless bear, it no longer seemed so intimidating.

Throwing my parcel to the ground I quickly retreated and pulled the other two baskets into the ring.

Taking a minute to breathe, I put my hands on my hips and looked around. Even after what happened last night, the village still decided that it was best to leave the Kill Ring unguarded. It was just, what were the words they used? Oh yeah, just _"a small hiccup"_ and, therefore, was unlikely to happen again. For a second, I toyed with the idea of inflicting some déjà vu on them, but quickly settled against it. A dragon rampaging around was the last thing I needed at the moment.

Moving my gaze downward, I examined the tenants I was supposed to serve. Or, I examined their imposing iron doors. There were six doors cut into the wall like Dad would cut a steak. I knew that the left most was a Monstrous Nightmare; the one next to it was an emotional wreak, and the next one was a Gronckle. The other three I was completely clueless on.

So, three baskets meant half a basket for each dragon. But then again, Gobber said one of them was a Terrible Terror, which was considerably smaller than the others, but I had no idea which cage it was in. All the doors were relatively the same size, and I was not about to stick my head in to see who was home. Nah, unless I found a way to deduce it logically, the little guy was just going to get a feast.

I grabbed the basket that was playing pedestal to my little iron-dragon friend and dragged it toward the left side of the arena. I figured it was better to start with an old acquaintance so to speak. Nothing exciting or spectacular happened as I approached the door. The log holding the dragon captive didn't spontaneously explode, a comet didn't come crashing through the web above, nor did a troll come bursting through the entrance. My luck was holding for now.

There was no sound coming from the door in front of me, but I could start to hear some light growling coming from the door to the right. Even so, it was quiet and bland as if the dragon merely felt the situation dictated the action.

Ignoring moody over there, I crouched down and pushed the flap in lightly. Hot air rushed over my hand, and I retracted it faster than a snake strikes a rat. But no burning fire erupted out to greet me like an unwanted houseguest. Figuring that was the best sign I was going to get, I grabbed the basket and dumped it on the floor in front of me.

Thankfully, the fish were dead, so there was no flopping around, but they did slip a considerable distance from the basket as if the stone ground were ice. They also formed an interesting pile of various shapes and sizes, which, since they were all Icelandic Cod, made them look like a weird pile of rocks with their uniform color.

Tentatively, I pushed some of the fish using a wooden pole I found nearby. It was missing its iron head, probably burned off, so I couldn't call it a spear. Using this tool, it was easy to push the food under the door through the flap. There was an additional lever that I could pull on the left side of the door that would allow for the flap to extend entirely, but with this method, there was no need.

It was easy to feed the Monstrous Nightmare. For whatever reason, it seemed apt at ignoring me and continued on as if I wasn't there. To be honest, I was disappointed. It would have been cool to see something that I could use to confirm the intelligence I witnessed before. Still, uneventful was better than chaotic, so there was that at least.

As I moved toward the next dragon – after having picked up the remaining fish from the ground and placing them back into the basket – the dead silence from the first cell was more obvious than Astrid's obsession with her axe. It wasn't until I got away from the door that the scraping of claws on stone grated my ears. Rolling my eyes at the dragon's antics – it wasn't as if twenty arm lengths made any real difference – I turned toward the lightly growling and shaking door in front of me.

"Good morning to you too!" I said with as much cheer as I could. Dropping the basket down, the clank of steel hitting stone echoed throughout the area as my little metal sculpture hit the ground from its resting place on the basket. It was as if someone said something extremely foul and rude, the ambience in the arena suddenly darkened like a cloud covering the moon.

I tried to ignore the, now much more so, hostile, deep growling coming from the animal in front of me, and kicked over the basket. Again, a flood of fish swam out onto the stone and came to a calm rest after sliding for a few moments. This time, with hesitation and slight concern, I pushed the food under the flap with my disfigured spear. As soon as the flap opened, I almost jumped back. The growling became pure, unaltered hatred as though the malice of the creature was infinite or at least infinite in its discontent of me. Ignoring, the sounds, I simply continued with my task and lightly hummed to myself to calm my nerves.

The next thing to happen was as unexpected and confusing as a pig learning to fly. The dragon, whose fuming growls were oscillating up and down like they were running over hills, suddenly yelped and started wailing.

I blinked and stared at the door in front of me. The sound wasn't as melancholy as last night, more of a pathetic, what-was-happening-to-me, squeal.

Trying to ignore the dragon, I used my pole to fish out more food for the upset creature when the sound of wood striking metal floated to my ears. Glancing down in surprise, I looked right at my metal creation from earlier; the little dragon reflected in the morning sun and seemed to come almost alive in the light. For a moment, I wondered what baby dragons looked like, or how the reproduction process worked for them.

"Maybe this will help you, you moody, overgrown lizard." I don't know why I said it or why I did it, but I pushed the metal sculpture, ignoring the scrapping of iron with the stone ground, into the dragon's home. The noise from the prison disappeared as abruptly as food from a ravished Viking's plate. Quickly, I finished my task at that door and moved on to the next.

The dragon inside never made another sound.

The rest of the feeding process was much more relaxing. Unlike the first two customers, the rest seemed much more receptive of my presence and, dare I say it, almost playful. One of the guests kept pushing the food back out as soon as I left making me come back and repeat the process. Eventually, I decided I wasn't going to play its game, and the beast could go hungry. After around a half hour, its whines became too much, and I stomped back and tried once more. And how did it thank me? It simply pushed the food back out. I would be lying if I told you, even with my annoyance and twitching eye, that I didn't laugh.

One of the animals squealed when I finished giving it its supply of fish and, from the sounds of it, was trying to take a bath in the sea of fish that now inhabited its lair. It was the second door from the right, and I was sure it was the Terrible Terror. Its obviously entertained and excited squeaks put a smile on my face, and a cheer into my step that had been absent the last few days.

I stood near the entrance, the three empty baskets next to me, with a zany smile on my face and a twinkling in my eyes that betrayed my, poorly concealed, mirth. I was bouncing around on the balls on my feet and fidgeting uncontrollably.

There was more to these creatures than we knew. Not a single one tried to attack me, which went directly against Gobber's advice; instead, they were more mischievous than aggressive. And mischief and trickery took an established and clever mind to comprehend.

For a second, I toyed with the idea of experimenting right then and there, but decided against it. I really didn't want to deal with the backlash of the village if they found out I was doing something, other than fighting, with the dragons. But, at this point I couldn't help it, I needed to know more, or my curiosity would eat at my like a maggot and slowly devour me. But to do that, I would need to find a dragon that was not in the village, so I could study it without suspicion. The problem was, dragons were just like distractions, when you desired one there was never one in sight, but the moment you wanted nothing to do with them they became more common than mosquitoes.

My feet clattered against the stone as I walked up the ramp out the Kill Ring. Pausing at the top, I turned and glanced around. A piece of charred, blackened ground drew my gaze and caused my eyes to widened in shock as my heart skipped a beat and an idea formed in my mind. It was rare to hear the call of a Nightfury more than two or three times a year. But twice in just as many days must mean that, for whatever reason, the dragon was hanging around. I knew just where to start my search and just who to look for.

I was going to go find that Nightfury, even if it killed me. I just had to know more.

"There you are Hiccup!" a booming voice shouted from directly behind me.

I jumped into the air and yelped. Turning around faster than a diving hawk, I winced from the light pain in my neck, and examined the man who startled me. I already knew whom it was from his voice, but the disheveled and elated posture the proud man wore could only point to misfortune.

"What are you doing here, Gobber, you scared me half to death." I said.

Gobber guffawed and hit his thigh. He said, "I guess I'm gonna have to toughen you up then."

I gulped.

"But now is not the time for that, we got to get ready for the kids." The large man continued.

What was Gobber even talking about? Get ready for what? There was nothing…oh yeah, dragon training. Gobber probably wanted me to help with whatever inane scheme he had come up with now.

"Get ready how? What could we possible…wait, where are Astrid and company." I leaned over trying to look behind the burly man half expecting to see soaked, tired and bloody teenagers slowly stumbling around.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about them, we got some time before they get out of my traps." The cheer in Gobber's voice was infectious, and I couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Gobber, what did you do to them?" I asked with a light chuckle.

"Sorry Hiccup, my lips are sealed; after all, I may need to use some of the methods to deal with your fear problems. The best way to get over fear is to be exposed to it repetitively. Sooner or later, you'll learn to squash it like a bug."

The merriment I was feeling disappeared faster than a snowball in high summer.

"They are going to make it back, right?" I asked cautiously.

"Of course they are, they're Vikings!" Gobber roared.

Rolling my eyes, I said, "Let me rephrase. Are they going to come back with all limbs still attached?"

"Fifty-fifty."

Gobber just needed to patent that smirk at this point.

"Now," the big man said, "let's get ready for them. They are going to be tired, hungry and hurting. Seems like the perfect opportunity for a dragon attack! After all, being the monstrous cowards the creatures are, they always prey when you are weakest. Because of this, Vikings always need to be strong!"

I sighed. "So how are we going to set up this romantic match-up?"

The man clapped and gleefully said, "Don't worry Hiccup, I got it all figured out. It's going to be beautiful."

* * *

Sadly, the plan didn't go as beautifully as Gobber envisioned. We set up a maze in the Kill Ring for the kids to use against their foe. Unfortunately, Gobber thought the moody dragon would be a good choice for the kids to go up against, and I learned that the emotionally insane dragon was actually a Deadly Nadder which, thinking about it, made sense. Stoneblood said that they just captured one and the dragon was acting homesick in a way. Of course, once Gobber released it, the dragon's temperament was a bit out of control and took the whole battle-thing with a bit too much zealous aggression. Thankfully, nothing terribly disastrous happened, but both Astrid and Fishlegs still went to the healer with semi-serious injuries.

I jumped over a muddy puddle on the forest path and continued forward in the green and brown ocean of trees. Due to the fiasco at the Kill Ring, Gobber let me go, and I was not wasting any time. There was no telling how long the Nightfury would remain in the area, and since it could be anywhere, I figured it was best to head back toward where our fateful meeting occurred. Maybe there would be a clue or something.

Of course, there was no black dragon at the meeting place, and there was no black dragon anyway near by. It was not by the stream, the lake, or in the cliffs. There was no sign of it in the woods, no sign of it anywhere. And due to the rain the previous night, any traces that would have been there were washed away. After a few unsuccessful hours I sat down on a rock and rubbed my eyes.

Maybe it would be better to think about this a bit more, wondering the forest wasn't solving anything.

Just as I nodded my head and decided to return to Berk something amazing happened. I looked up.

Now, that might not sound like anything special, but I was sitting in a large linear clearing near one of the trails. And there, about two to three hundred elbow lengths away, was a black dragon.

It was different from any dragon I had ever laid eyes on. In fact, I was surprised how close my mental picture from the darkness was. The dragon was small; if it walked on four legs I would be similar in height to me. But the length, on the other hand, was massive; the creature was easily six times my height in length including its tail. Its head was very smooth, with no ridges or spikes, and a flat nose with grand green eyes and large black pupils. The creature had two large floppy ears and too smaller similar-shaped ridges on the back of its head. However, by the waving they were doing in the light wind, it was obvious they were not bone, but probably cartilage. The wings were gorgeous. That was really the only word for them. They were large and bat-like, but the way the dragon held them was as if they were the grandest treasure in the world. Finally, the tail was long and thin, with small ridges adorning its back and two fan-like tail fins at the end of the tail that waved back and forth in the wind like a snake swaying in charm.

And with the creatures pitch-black scales, it was obvious what this animal was.

The Nightfury was watching me and, much to my surprise, jumped off its perch and started toward me with narrowed, cautioned eyes.

Of course, it was just about time for my luck to strike foul.

"Hey Hiccup! There you are, we've looked all over for you!" Snotlout's voice called through the woods, reverberating off the tall trees.

Yup, I knew it was about time for something bad to happen.

Growling, I turned toward the origin of the voice and saw Snotlout and Tuffnut rushing toward me in a frenzied hurry. I cocked one eyebrow up in confusion as I watched them. As soon as they got close, I quickly snapped my vision back to where the Nightfury had been.

Its perch was empty and quiet, only the green, brown and blue of trees, flowers, dirt and water met my questioning gaze.

I groaned in frustration and threw my arms up into the air.

"Dude, Hiccup, why are you all the way out here." Snotlout said as he came to a stop in front of me.

"Yeah, we heard you went into the woods, but we wouldn't have guessed you were this far in." Tuffnut added.

"Yeah, it was hard to find you," Snotlout said casually, with poorly faked pride, "but we weren't about to give up."

Tuffnut filled in, "no way, we are Vikings, we don't give up."

Snotlout punched Tuffnut who responded with the same favor and soon both fell to the ground wrestling with smiles and playful curses bellowing from their lips.

Just as I was about to criticize their technique and maturity, I heard a large snap of something in the nearby brush; something big was moving about.

Oh crap.

Honestly, how do I get myself in these situations? I am now stuck in the woods with my cousin and his bumbling friend and a legendary dragon that had never been seen before, except by me of course, was now stalking us in the woods. Un-freaking-believable.

Thankfully, the two of them didn't hear the dragon moving about and kept bickering and fighting with each other. After a moment, I got bored and cleared my throat loudly.

"Sorry Hiccup, but he deserved it." Snotlout said.

I felt my eyebrows rise at the apology. What was he playing at?

Tuffnut snorted vociferously, and said, "maybe so, but I still kicked your butt buddy. You fight like a little girl."

"Yeah and you would know what a girl fights like, you stupid fart."

Oh the headache, it was as if someone was pounding and breaking stones inside my mind. I yelled out, "Guys!" when I saw their faces touching each other, and their lips waving as growls thundered out of their mouths.

They quickly broke away and looked at me.

"Yeah, anyway." Snotlout looked nervous and uncertain. "You see we were going to...um-"

"For crying out loud you big baby, it's not that hard." Tuffnut said loudly. "Hiccup man, we're sorry about what happened last night. We honestly didn't think a dragon would get out."

Snotlout mumbled something under his breath.

"Gobber set you up on this didn't he?" I asked annoyed. There was no way these two were even remotely sorry. Well, maybe sorry that I wasn't eaten. Or sorry for themselves after what Gobber did to them.

"Yeah," they both said slowly.

"And what are you going to do now?" I asked with a frown.

"Uhh…well-"

The thundering crack of a tree rang in the clearing and both Snotlout and Tuffnut quickly grabbed their weapons. I meticulously glared over at where the noise came from. Nothing was visible in the woody embrace, no flashes of black appeared in-between the greens and browns. But I knew it was there, and now my two dumb companions knew there was something out there as well.

Tuffnut said, with excitement drenching his voice, "that sounded big, what do you think it is?"

Both Snotlout and Tuffnut started to part the bushes and head off the trail with no idea of what waited for them.

I had to stop this now. There was no way the two of them would be able to handle a Nightfury, especially in their inexperience. If they discovered it they would definitely try to attack the dragon and almost certainly get themselves killed. In a weird twisted way, it was up to me to save their lives.

"Eh, it was probably just a deer. I saw a herd of them over by the lake earlier and was going to mention it to Gobber, we could use the food." I said trying to sound as uninterested as possible.

Snotlout said, "Deer don't snap trees Hiccup. Come on, I thought you were the smart one."

"Whatever, it doesn't matter. Besides," I pointed up at the departing light of the sky, "we should get going, I'm starving and don't want to miss Gobber's tale."

Both of the delinquents stopped and glanced over at me. "What was that?" Tuffnut asked.

"Didn't you get the memo? He is going to tell us how he lost his leg tonight - the whole deal from start to finish."

It was a lie of course, but we had always wanted to know happened to Gobber's foot. He would talk about his hand, at great length and with much arm wavering, but he was strangely mute about the details regarding his lost leg.

"Really?" both Snotlout and Tuffnut asked.

Hook, line and sinker. I only shrugged.

"No, seriously, he is going to talk about that?" Snotlout asked again.

I nodded and started to walk away and said, "Yeah if you two want to miss it chasing after ghosts that's fine, but I'm going to go check it out."

"Who cares about some overgrown beetle, we can't miss that!" Tuffnut exclaimed and jumped out of the brush and onto the trail.

The three of us started off back toward home. I walked quietly and memorized the path for tomorrow, but my two companions were arguing about what was in the woods and how they would have kicked its butt. Their discussion got extremely extravagant and unbelievable, but even they never went as far to guess that it was a Nightfury in the words there. It was probably the only time in their life that the reality was more impressive than the story.

Eventually we neared Berk, and I let out a breath that I didn't even realizing I was holding. The situation went all right. No one got hurt, and I could just play off the lie by claiming Gobber let us on and shift the blame from myself to him. Well, hopefully, I could pass it off like that; I generally became a shuddering mess when lying. I did okay in the woods though, so maybe I could swing the tale with Gobber all right.

Just as we entered the town, I heard a whisper in my ear.

"Hiccup, you may be my weak and pathetic cousin, but you are still my cousin. No stupid dragon is going to take that away from me. I'm…I'm sorry."

I stopped and blinked and watched both Tuffnut and Snotlout disappear toward the Mead Hall.

That was the most honestly I have ever heard from my cousin, and I wasn't really sure how to deal with it. But, one thing was for sure, while we may never like each other, deep down I knew he would miss me if I were gone and that feeling was comforting in ways not really explainable.

In a way, I felt bad as I was going to be placing myself at a dragon's mercy when I went looking for that Nightfury and nothing Snotlout, Gobber or my Dad did would help me. But, thanks to my heritage, once I made up my mind that's all there was too it - I, just like mother, just like father, was stubborn like that. I was going to find that dragon again and nothing anyone did would stop me. And with that conviction I knew right then and there that tomorrow would decide my destiny: for good or bad I had no idea, but I was ready to meet it head on, just like any proud Viking, and let the consequences be damned. Just like dad said, _"there was a time for planning and talking but, in the end, it always came down to doing."_ It was time to figure this whole dragon enigma out.


	7. Who Doesn't Like a Good Puzzle?

**Lightning Always Strikes Twice**

* * *

Chapter 5: Who Doesn't Like a Good Puzzle?

_"Not every puzzle is intended to be solved. Some are in place to test your limits. Others are, in fact, not puzzles at all..."_

* * *

Where in the world was Gobber? The sun was already dancing across the sky, its loving touch warming the earth and its inhabitants with the passion and care that only a mother could exhibit. The birds were singing, the sheep were grazing, heck, even Snotlout was trampling around with his unholy presence.

But no Gobber. Not even the smallest of traces, it was as if he disappeared the night before. Even asking around did no good, the man was acting like a shunned convict: he was invisible to the public.

Sighing loudly, I figured it was time to get started without him. After all, the dragons had to be getting hungry, and I had plans that I wanted to get on with.

If Gobber felt he had more important activities to engage in, then it was none of my business. Still, it would have been nice to have a bit of warning, even just a _'Hiccup I'm not gonna make it tomorrow.'_ But did Gobber do that? Nope. I was just supposed to read his mind or something and know exactly what was going on.

I kicked over a barrel of fish in the Kill Ring and the fish plopped out with a light splat. For whatever reason they didn't slide as far as they did the previous day – perhaps they were covered in a higher quantity of salt, or maybe they were just getting dry from the sun.

Hopefully, the dragons still enjoyed fish when they were warm, stinky and dry.

As a creature of habit, the sign of a well-organized mind in my opinion, I started with the same dragon to the left. Sadly, nothing eventful happened. My nose crinkled from the smell, and the scrapping of the wooden pole I used to pilot the fish irritated my ears. It was as if there were a bug buzzing right in their proximity, and it made me want to tear them off. Still, the silence from the cell of the Monstrous Nightmare was as apparent as snow in the summer. Of course, just like yesterday, once I moved onto mister – or misses, I wasn't sure – emotional I heard the claws clank against the ground like a nervous old ladies nails tapping on a table.

The Deadly Nadder was different today. It was entirely boring. No, screaming, vociferous wailing, or even disturbed, this-is-all-your fault growling. Heck, the silence in the Kill Ring was so strong that you would have been able to hear Astrid ask for help – Thor knows if she ever did, it would almost be imperceptible. It was as if death itself had come through the Kill Ring in a melancholy strut, and his residue was sticking around like a disease or that annoying person that just wouldn't leave you alone.

Then again, it was the Kill Ring, the land of miss opportunity and death so maybe that had something to do with it.

Thankfully, when everything was going to plan, this task of feeding the dragons was arduous and intellectually stimulating. Pushing fish through a flap took some amazing mental cognition and deduction; and those flaps, man, they took some real muscle and sweet to deal with. There was no better way to spend my time.

Even sarcasm didn't make it any better.

The third door was a fiasco in the name of excitement, and the fourth was the master of monotony.

"Come on dragons, do something. This is more mindless than that time Gobber tried to teach me mathematics." I growled and kicked the door in front of me. I wish I could have said it shuttered with my effort, but that would be lying – it stayed perfectly still. I, of course, was grabbing my toe and hopping around, curses falling from my lips like drink from a well-refreshed Vikings beard.

Stupid door.

Something snorted from inside the cell, and I ignored the throbbing in my foot and froze in place.

"Ha!" I yelled and pointed at the door, "I heard you. You can pretend all you want, but I know you're trying to confuse me or trick me or something…regardless I saw through your futile plan. You can start acting like dragons again, you know, with the fire-breathing and stomping and growling."

A bird tweeting in the distance was the only sound to reach my ears.

"I hate dragons," I said and hit my forehead with my hand.

Its okay, I reminded myself. I just needed to finish up here then go find that Night Fury and start to figure this dragon stuff out. I wasn't quite sure how I was going to do it yet, but anything was better than dealing with these moronic statues.

You know when you are doing something that is annoying or boring or worse something that you really hate, and as you get close to finishing, time just seems to run away from you like some bully with your teddy bear? Yeah, this was like ten times worse. The creatures were so unresponsive…so dumb that I started to wonder if my newfound opinions were fabricated and rushed. Maybe Gobber and the others were right, and dragons were just bloodthirsty monsters. Did I just imagine that glint of intelligence in the Monstrous Nightmares eyes? Was the reflection of light in the darkness just giving a false impression of wisdom? But, no matter what was reality and what was fiction on that perilous night, I knew for a fact that the Night Fury didn't kill me in our meeting. There was reason for everything. And I would find the truth, or I would admit to Dad that I was the one who blew up the house last year, not that fat, cheeky-smiling Gronckle that had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Mercifully, the last basket ran dry, and I gave a whoop of victory in the accomplishment of my goal. Just as I did, a mystical array of high and low pitched sounds rang out in the Kill Ring like a pack of wolves moving in for the kill. It was like nothing I had ever heard before, and I was not amused.

"And just what in the world was that!" I yelled at the doors.

Silence.

"Oh, I get it, you all think you're so cleaver and funny. But I can tell you, it's not even remotely amusing."

More Silence.

What was wrong with me? It's not like the animals could understand what I was saying, but what was up with that synchronized cheer-like growl. I have been around dragons my entire life, and that was about as far from normal as I have ever heard. The dragon's actions were a puzzle, and I hated puzzles. Not that I didn't like solving challenging problems. I loved inventing, but that involved logic. Puzzles, on the other hand, involved almost no creative thought just pure repetition. And, due to my stubborn mind, once I got stuck on one, I couldn't get off of it until I solved it.

"Growl at me! You hate me, I'm human and evil," I shouted.

Have you ever had silence so profound it was as if you could hear it, not because you actually could, but because the lack of noise was so contrasting to the norm?

I stomped my feet and added, "I won't feed you. I refuse to act like your mother hen anymore. If you want nourishment, you're going to have to work for it."

Nothing moved, sang, begged for mercy or jumped out and danced. Only the bland, uninteresting whites and grays of the Kill Ring meet my angry glare.

"DO SOMETHING." I screamed, my spit flying forth and wetting the ground like light, preemptive rain.

It was rare that I got upset enough to yell, I was more accustomed to just using my sarcasm when things were unfavorable. But something about the way these dragons were acting felt almost personal, and I honestly wasn't sure why.

"Hiccup, what in Odin's name are you doing?" a shocked, deep voice asked with a slight stutter of confusion.

I turned around with speed that would have impressed Astrid and gazed at the offending interruption. All thoughts and frustrations induced from dragons were refocused onto a new target: a blond-haired, wide shouldered, one-armed, one-legged target.

I ignored the asinine question, stomped over to the large man and hit him in the chest as hard as possible. He didn't even flinch. "Where were you Gobber?" I half hissed and half shouted, sounding like some freaky snake-human hybrid thing.

"Chill your checks you little ruffian," the large man said, "I was just making sure the kids were okay. Now-I"

There was no way I was letting him dictate this conversation.

"Yeah, and what about taking care of the Kill Ring? Am I supposed to do everything?" I interrupted like a snide, spoiled kid.

Confusion and a bit of annoyance flashed in the man's blue eyes. "What are you squawking for? We can feed the beasts now."

"I already did it because you never showed up. How was I supposed to know you were actually going to-"

Gobber interrupted me, not with a loud, powerful voice, but with the voice of a monarch – slow, deep and dangerous – a voice that knew it would be respected, "Hiccup, I was always planning on showing up, don't you think for even a second that I wasn't. I always do good on my word."

I opened my mouth to remark that he never gave his word and that it was simply implied, but quickly closed it when I noticed the fire brewing in his eyes. There was no sense adding fuel to the kindling, I really wanted to get to other things today. So, I took the easy way out and switched topics.

"So how are Astrid and Fishlegs?"

Mentally patting myself on the back, I smirked as I saw Gobber perk up and stand tall pride radiating off him like light would from a candle.

"Ready to get up and kick some more dragon tail. Real Vikings, those kids. But the elder is claiming that I need to ease them into it more. Rubbish, I say. That'll only hurt them, but what do I know, I've just been fighting the beasts for years. They took my leg and arm; I have the experience and know how to teach a couple dirty kids how to fight 'em," Gobber said.

Yeah Gobber, because losing your legs and arms makes you a better dragon slayer. Sorry but I might a bit more included to listen to the warrior that still has all limbs intact.

"So what are you going to do then?" I pretended to clean my nails as if uninterested in something so mundane. Truth be told, I was actually interested in what he was going to put them through, and if Gobber knew I cared, he probably wouldn't tell me and opt for suspense instead.

"The elder said they can't face dragons for at least a few days, so we'll go through strength conditioning and stuff like that. Not exactly dragon slaying stuff though; its stuff they should," Gobber seemed to direct his words at me, "be doing anyway since they're Vikings."

I shrugged off the suggestion and decided to change the direction of the conversation again. Sometimes the best way to deal with Vikings was to lead them in circles with misdirection. Often times they would get confused and just go with the flow. But you had to be careful, get them too befuddled and you would end up with a headache as retribution for the one you caused them.

"Didn't Stoneblood say we needed to clean out the dragon cages to make sure they don't get sick and die?" I asked calmly.

Gobber growled, and a dangerous glint flashed across his eyes like a bolt of lightning. "Something like that, was planning on doing it tomorrow, but I'm not feeling to sympathetic to those beasts right now."

If Gobber was feeling vengeful, Astrid and Fishlegs were likely worse off then he had let on. I made a mental note to check on them later.

"So, I'm pushing it back a day. We'll clean out those ungrateful monsters homes then." Gobber grabbed two of the baskets and threw them on his shoulders. "Come on, lets get out of here."

Grabbing the last basket, I followed the large man out of the Kill Ring.

As we walked up the ramp, I said, "Don't worry Gobber, whether tomorrow or the day after, I'm sure you'll make a wonderful maid; maybe the dragons will even tip you for good service. "

Thankfully, the joke worked and Gobber's voice took on a lighthearted tone. That didn't mean he wasn't still dangerous, quite the opposite in fact, but it did mean that he was more predictable.

"Yeah, with fire maybe," Gobber replied. "And just for that comment, you have reached two strikes. Careful, you really don't want to hit three."

For the next few minutes nothing remarkable happened. I tried to push Gobber off the bridge for one of his offhanded comments, but that's really it. After that, we made our way through the village, Gobber waving to and fro at acquaintances and stopping ever now and then to chat to a few Vikings about some games that would be happening tonight. The people of Berk loved to play games of strength, courage and power of will. We used them as a system of bets, a way to pass the time in the cold, dark, miserable winters.

Of course, no one noticed or attempted to communicate with me. I was Gobber's shadow figuratively and sometimes, with the way the man towered over me, it felt literal.

Eventually, we cleared the main part of the village and started down the ramps toward the docks. I was thinking about the dragons and their strange abrupt silence today. The day before, they had been quiet, but responsive. Today, it was almost as if they coordinated the not-make-a-sound thing and I was completely clueless and mystified as to why. And that random call they all did all together at the end was confounding to say the least.

In hopes of learning more about those dragons, I turned to Gobber. After all, he worked with the Kill Ring quite often and may have some knowledge about the dragons there. "So, I've tried to figure out what type of dragons are in the cages and haven't had the best of luck. Want to help me out."

Gobber stopped and watched me. Eventually, he asked, "Why do you care?" The man quirked an eye as he examined me, obviously confused.

I shrugged my shoulders and said, "just curious."

Gobber looked at me as if I had grown a third head – third because he would have thought two were cool. "Why would you be curious about something like that? Dragons are just mindless, murderous beasts that are not deserving of your thoughts."

"We'll if they break out and I need to spill their blood it's best I'm prepared. As a great Viking Warrior once said, _'negligent of the preparation is in the foolishment of the true warrior.'_" I said.

"The real saying is _'negligent of the preparation is in the confidence of the true warrior'_ Hiccup." Gobber said with exasperation.

Before I could defend myself, the Viking continued, "But what you said makes some sense, the only good knowledge about dragons is stuff that lets us kill 'em faster." Gobber paused briefly. "From right to left we have a Hideous Zippleback, Terrible Terror, Monstrous Nightmare, Gronckle, Deadly Naddar, and a Monstrous Nightmare."

"Wait, we have two Nightmares?" I asked tentatively.

Gobber hesitated and looked at me quizzically as though debating with himself about something. After a few minutes, he shrugged and said, "sorta," as if it didn't mean anything.

My eyes narrowed into a glare, and I said, "What do you mean sorta? We either have two, or we don't."

"Well, one of them has been here for a real long time, so I'm not sure it counts," Gobber said.

"What?" I asked with honest shock. "Why has no one killed it yet?"

The large Viking looked as if he wanted to stop but, for whatever reason, continued, "Long story that you don't need to hear. Stoick has a bone to pick with it and has just never gotten around to it."

If this involved Dad, how come I was just hearing about it now?

"How long are we talking here?" I asked with curiously infused into my words.

"Six years," Gobber said in a flat, monotonic voice.

Six years! My dad never let anything sit for that long. There was something very fishy going on. Maybe Gobber was lying, and Dad had nothing to do with this dragon? Or maybe the dragon really hadn't been a prisoner for over half a decade and Gobber was just twisting the truth. But that didn't make any sense either. I was missing more than just a piece, I was, in fact, missing the entire puzzle. And like I said, I hated puzzles.

Decision made, I said, with conviction, "I'll ask him about it later."

"Ask who?" Gobber looked like a panicked deer caught in the eyes of a hunter. "Stoick?" the man asked in almost a whisper – well, a whisper compared to his normal thundering volume.

"Who else? You said my dad has a problem with the dragon."

"Yeah, I wouldn't recommend bringing that up," Gobber sheepishly said.

"And why not? He'll…" I hesitated for a second, "…probably tell me?" I said, my uncertainty making it sound like a question.

"Thor's Hammer! Can you just listen to me this once Hiccup, I really mean it this time," Gobber said and after a moment added, "please."

That made me pause. In all my years, I had never heard Gobber utter the dreaded p-word before. He was a Viking and Vikings didn't ask; Vikings simply took.

"Alright Gobber, I won't ask him." I told the bulky Viking with a steady and confident voice.

The man let out a huge breath of relief and visibly relaxed.

"You didn't let me finish," I quickly informed him. "I'm not going to ask him yet, but if you don't tell me the story soon, I will go to him and tell him who slipped me the teaser."

Gobber roared out a hearty burst of laughter and looked at me with a proud smile on his face. "It's times like this I wish your relation to Stoick wouldn't shine through," he said.

And just what did he mean by that?

"You may not be the biggest or the strongest Hiccup, but you are more like your father than you may expect." The man patted me on the back; he still was carrying the basket, but the arm-nudge was surprisingly soft and caring. "Save for your quick thinking. Sadly, you didn't get any of that from my buddy, nope, that's all from your mother's side."

Most Vikings would have meant that as an insult: that my weakness, my need for intelligence came from my mother. And if they did, I would have punched them in their stupid, arrogant face, regardless of the consequences. But thankfully, it was obvious through Gobber's voice that there was no jest or trickery involved, just pure honesty.

"Tell yeah what Hiccup. Since you took care of the beasts this morning, I'll take up your responsibilities in the forge. 'Tis only fair right?"

Now that was a deal I could get on with. Give me more time to work on this dragon project.

"How about this," I said, "I'll feed the dragons everyday by myself if you take over my blacksmith duties for now."

We started to move back down toward the docks.

"I don't know Hiccup, there is a lot of work that needs to be done in forge."

"Yeah." I agreed, "but the real question to answer is would you rather deal with dragons, or make weapons."

Gobber laughed, his booming guffaws echoing off the nearby cliff. "You got yourself a deal there kiddo."

So you have no qualms with letting me interact with dragons on a daily basis with no supervision. I'm surprised Gobber, where did that protectiveness you showed earlier go? Weren't you afraid that my dad would come back to me dead or missing? Maybe you never got the memo, but I have a feeling my dad would be relieved if I were to disappear.

That thought was distressing and put me in a bad mood, so I ignored the cheerful Gobber as we worked our way to the warehouse. The lack of ships in the pier was a reminder that the majority of the villagers were out and about in the dangerous ocean risking their lives to possibly create a better future for us. They were probably hungry, cold, frustrated, and anxious as they wandered the endless labyrinth of mists and rocks.

The thumping of the waves on the shore drew my attention. It reminded me of the rocking that my mother used to do to calm me down when I was very young. Dad always claimed it would make me weak, but Mom didn't care as she knew it I liked it. I looked out into the endless ocean and wondered what Dad was doing right then. Probably some crazy act of perilously heroism.

We deposited our baskets in the warehouse and gave a brief greeting that involved a strange serious of grunts to Boregut. Stepping back into the sunlight, I turned toward my dad's friend and asked, "Hey Gobber?"

"Yeah?"

I have no idea what prompted me to say it, but I asked, "Have you ever wondered what you would do if dragons were intelligent?"

Gobber reared back as if he had just smelt something disgusting. "What? Dragons are not intelligent Hiccup, they are merciless, stupid monsters. The sooner they are cleansed from the world, the better off everyone will be."

I said, with some desperation, "You're missing the point. I'm asking, what if they didn't need to be cleansed?"

"That's the dumbest thing I have ever heard you say," Gobber exclaimed and pointed around to the devastation from the dragon's previous raid. "Look at what they do to us."

"But what if-" I started to plead but was quickly interrupted by a firm and commanding voice.

"Hiccup, that's just the way things are. Always has been; always will be." Gobber looked at me as if he were examining a sick patient. "Are you feeling okay? You've been acting really weird the last few days. Well, weirder than usual. Honestly, acting like dragons could be anything but a plague on this world. They're big, ugly, flying rats and we are doing the Gods will by annihilating them."

Realizing that I was digging myself in a hole, I sighed loudly in exaggeration and said, "It was going to lead to a joke Gobber, you just never let me get to the punch line. Of course dragons are a scourge on this world, that goes without saying."

Gobber's concerned expression blossomed like a flower in spring into a boisterous smile. "Hiccup you really need to work on your jokes, you had me worried there for a second," he said with a light smirk as he clapped me on the back.

I sighed internally. The hypothetical question was never meant to be a joke Gobber.

* * *

It was easy to find my way back to the clearing. The problem was that there was no black winged menace defiling the greens and browns of the woods. Readjusting my sketchbook under my arm, I started to expand my search.

The sun crept across the sky like a slug in the rain – slow, but steadily making progress. This dragon was proving elusive; of course, there was also the possibility that it flew away after yesterday's escapade.

Eventually, I decided to climb a tree to get a better vantage point. Above the trees was a whole different world than the ground below. The afternoon sun bore down on it like the parent of a mischievous child and the bees, bugs and birds flew around with poorly curbed enthusiasm looping in exaggerated circles and strange zigzags as if they were drunk. Blinking and shielding my eyes with an arm, I looked around for any clues of the dragon.

There was nothing discernible that I could make out, likely because dragons were creatures of the air and left few, if any, traces. Then again, maybe I just needed to find an even better vantage point. There were the Iron Claw Cliffs nearby, and they would give me a good view of the forest and nearby meadows. Nodding my head, I shimmied down the tree and set off toward the mountain.

The cliffs were nothing particularly special. They were tall, sharp, dangerous and obviously made by an angry and wrathful god; in other words, they were mild compared to a lot of the terrain around here.

It took me only a few minutes to reach the base and start my ascent. Thankfully, this climbing was not too strenuous or difficult. The maze of sheer cliff faces and rocks seemed intimidating, but if you took your time and analyzed the route you were going to take the challenge evaporated like standing water into a boring, almost mind-numbing task.

At approximately half way to the top, I stopped my ascent and traversed to a nice perch not too far away. I looked around. The forest was easily visible to my right. It looked like a green body of water with the wind causing the trees to ripple like waves in the sea. Then again, the grasslands to the left were also waving lightly in the wind; it was as if the entire area were twitching in anticipation of something.

My hair blew in front of my face, and I quickly shifted it away from my eyes. While the view was breathtaking, my interest was not in sightseeing. Quickly, I scanned the area. But again no black, winged dragon was anywhere to be seen. Groaning with disappointment, I looked down to make sure my butt wouldn't find anything uncomplimentary when I sat down. Of course by looking straight down, I could just barely make out something on the edge of my vision near the cliffs bottom. Dropping to my knees faster than a strike of lightning, I crawled forward and looked over the lip of the cliff.

And there the Night Fury was.

Down below, the dragon, curled up like a cat, was sleeping on the grassy ground – although the Night Fury itself was on a strange black splotch as if something had killed the grass before the animal laid down. The black of its wings, tail and scales meshed together to create a blob that was difficult to differentiate at this distance.

With giggly mirth and a wacky, stupid grin on my face, I started my descent. Climbing down was always more dangerous than climbing up because it was so much harder to see your footing but I managed with minimal problems. Plopping onto a rock outcrop that was much closer to the ground, but hopefully not close enough to be seen, I shifted my notebook out from under my arm.

I glanced over the edge to see if the dragon was still sleeping and as luck would have it, it was not. Nope, the creature was stretching out: it would extend one leg forward, one backward, arc its spine and let out a contented moan before shifting to the other side.

With the grin of a kid getting their first axe, I sat cross-legged on the edge of the cliff and started to draw. The dragon was walking around lightly with lazy steps and half-open eyes.

My writing utensil darted across my page like a hummingbird after inhaling too much nectar. The lines crisscrossed, formed curves, and filled in gaps as the charcoal image began to take shape.

The dragon was now licking its chops and heading over toward a bush. Curious, I paused in my drawing and watched the dragon as its head disappeared in the foliage and rummaged around.

Eventually, the head popped back out with something in its mouth. However, it was not a bird, a squirrel, or a rabbit; in fact, it was not even food: it was just about the last thing I would have ever expected. In the creature's teeth, waving lightly due to sway of the dragons walk was a mixture of ropes and rocks. It was the remnant of the bola I had tried to shoot the dragon down with.

Well that explained why I couldn't find it that night, but why in the world would a dragon have any interest in something like that?

Scooting forward, I quickly finished my sketch as I watched the dragon below. Gaze drawn skyward, the Night Fury's looked to the air with a longing, loving expression, and, for a moment, I wondered if it were going to fly off.

Of course, before the dragon could even spread its majestic wings, the rock I was sitting on cracked with a loud, slow, irritating scratching sound and dislodged itself from the cliff.

I screamed; I'm not afraid to admit it. The suddenly feeling of falling after you were on solid ground was startling to anyone. Sure, it was similar to the times my cousin threw me off high cliffs into water, but that didn't make it any more comfortable. And just like those times, it felt like I left my stomach behind.

Thankfully, with a splash and the feeling of cold water all over my body, I had somehow managed to fall in a way that I would land in the river below. Surfacing and gasping for air, I quickly swam to the bank. The sun was still out to assist in drying my clothes, but the water dripping off of my arms, legs and face was enough to quench the thirst of all the farm animals in Berk, and let me tell you, they drank a lot.

Coughing and spitting as much water on the ground as I could, I wallowed in my misery for a minute. Then, with a deeply annoyed sigh, I stood up and looked around.

The Night Fury was standing approximately a hundred paces away, the pieces of my bola resting at its side. The dragon had a queer expression on its face as if the animal couldn't decide whether to be amused or angry.

"Yeah, yeah, real comical." I mumbled as I tried to squeeze some of the water out of my soaked shirt.

At the sound of my voice, the dragon blinked before quickly crouching down and growling at me with pure animosity.

Surprised by the sudden sign of aggression, I paused and eyed the dragon tentatively. Its green eyes shifted over my frame examining me with narrowed slits.

A sharp, prickly sensation caused my hand to fly up to my neck. The bandage that I used to cover the exposed and still raw flesh was missing. Pulling my hand away, I examined the residue of light, watery red that adored it. Something in the fall must have opened the cuts again. Crap, that was not good. Rushing toward the river, I examined my reflection.

A scrawny brown-haired Viking wearing a fur vest and a green tunic was the answer to my inquiry. But that was of no concern; the small line of red coming from my neck, however, was. It wasn't too bad – just a trickling stream, not a raging river – but it was better being overly careful than lax in neck treatments.

Cursing, I turned around and moved to take a step forward, only to yelp and fall back down in surprise. I subconsciously massaged my butt as I stared ahead. The dragon was now only ten paces away from me and was still eying me with a narrowed gaze. However, the growling had stopped which was a good sign. What was confusing was the bola that dangled from its mouth.

The two of us just stood there for what must have been five minutes. A real odd couple we made: me the bleeding and weak Viking, and it, the black, abnormal dragon. And with the bola dangling from its mouth, the scene looked like some absurd reversal with the dragon playing the hunter and myself the prey to be caught.

Eventually, the dragon lowered its head and released the bola on the ground. It pushed the bola forward with its muzzle a few paces and then stepped back again. The dragon's eyes widened expectantly, and its gaze rapidly shifted from me to the bola and back again.

Maybe the dragon wanted to return my bola to me? But if that were the case, why did the creature take it in the first place? And this was the what I attacked it with, why would it ever want to return it?

Shrugging, I started to move forward and quickly found my progress stopped. Not by anything physical impeding me but because there was a very peeved dragon growling with indignation in front of me. I took a step back and the dragon immediately calmed down. Its eyes expanded back from narrow slits to large luminous green orbs.

Frustrated, I said, "Well sorry if I don't know what you want. It's a bit hard to speak dragon with my human features and all." The sarcasm was dripping off my words just like the blood was my neck.

The dragon rolled its enormous, picturesque eyes and sighed loudly. It actually reminded me of my reactions when I tried to teach incompetent Viking how to do something other than kill, eat and sleep.

Once again, the dragon started to alternate between watching me and glancing at the bola on the ground. This time, however, the Night Fury was trying to emphasize the two objects more. When the Night Fury's gaze locked onto me, its head would jerk forward as if the creature were pointing at me.

What in the world did this dragon want?

I felt something wet touch my leg and looked down. The trail of blood from my neck had hit my trousers and was starting to soak into the material. Thankfully, the trail across my chest was extremely narrow – one drip wide – but even so that was a fair amount of blood.

I could stay and play games with this dragon, but with how my neck was that wouldn't be wise. I took a step away to swoop around the creature. Of course, the second I did so the dragon went back into its battle-like stance and started to growl furiously. Fearing that the dragon would attack if I continued in that path, I stepped back to where I was. The Night Fury once again calmed down: its eyes widened, and an ear on its head flopped to the side like a limp leaf.

Once again the dance started. The dragon looked at me then at the bola on the ground. Thankfully, the dragon decided that my stupidity needed some help and added additional information. Now, after looking at the bola on the ground it would look of the side and jester to the field to the left before shifting its gaze back to me and repeating the cycle. Now, the only thing in that field was a series of large beauteous flowers. Filled to the brim with red and yellow petals, the flowers wavered around in the soft wind looking like miniature suns on a hot summer day.

What did flowers have anything to do with this?

Okay. I needed to think. The dragon wanted something to do with me and the bola that much was obvious. But when I moved to grab it, the dragon got upset, so there was something more to it. The Night Fury also didn't want me to leave, so it must want something from me. So what would flowers have anything to do with that…what would anything have to do with the bola? Wait, what if the creature wanted to trade something for it? But why would it do that? Still, that's the only thing that I could deduce that would make any sense.

"So do you want to trade something for it?" I asked the large winged creature in front of me.

The only response I got was an expectant glare and the twitch of an ear.

I took off my vest – it was wet anyway, and wet fur was pretty useless – and said, "How about this?"

The dragon just watched me with shifty large green eyes.

Hoping I made the right read, I took a step forward and grimaced as I waited for the dragon to react.

Instead, the scaled animal just watched me, its head bobbing lightly as if to encourage me.

Cautiously, I took the few steps forward and deposited my vest on the ground next to the bola. Still hearing no response from the creature – even though I was now only two or three paces away – I picked up the bundle of ropes and rocks and took a step back. Just as I did, a rush of wind pushed me, and I fell, once again, on my butt.

Quickly looking up, the black silhouette of the dragon was gone. The swishing of nearby bushes were the only sign that it was ever even here. Of course, the vest was gone too.

How very strange.

Well, one thing was for sure. The dragon must be intelligent if it could understand the concept of a trade. But why in the world did it feel the need to trade in the first place? And why the bola? Could the dragon possibly understand the symbology of returning the weapon I used to attack it?

With a confused and hollow chuckle, I grabbed my sketchbook off the ground and started to run back to Berk. I needed to get back to make sure my neck was fine, but honestly, I wasn't too worried about that right now. My mind was still stuck on the questions and discoveries in front of me. There was obviously more pieces to the puzzle that still needed to be found. But this was the fist time in my life I could honestly say that I was looking forward to the puzzle itself and not just the conclusion.


	8. Nights Bane

**Lightning Always Strikes Twice  
**

* * *

Chapter 6: Nights Bane

_"The language of friendship is not words but meanings."_

* * *

I knew I was spending inordinate amounts of time in the woods but this was getting ridiculous. Of course, there was a good reason for it. It had nothing to do with the Vikings of Berk or Snotlout or, even worse, Astrid.

What was I kidding, that was exactly the reason I was avoiding the town as if the plague just broke out. It wasn't because I had enmity for myself or for being a Viking; no, a black sheep was still a sheep and liked being a part of the herd, but sometimes, when the sun was shinning brightly, and the color of your coat was distressingly apparent, you just needed some time alone.

Water rippled in strange and weird swirls around my feet as I lightly moved them through the gentle current. The large deviations in the waters current reminded me of Dad wading through a crowd – no one dared get in the way.

I was back by the river where I meet the Night Fury the previous day. The large, scaly creature was not in the nearby area, but its tracks could clearly and easily be made out in the soft, lightly damp dirt. Honestly, at this time, I just didn't really care. Not because I didn't want to know more about the dragon – or dragons in general – but because something else, much more distracting and painful, took my mind hostage and held it at knifepoint. Something with beautiful blond hair and sparkling, much like the water at my feet, blue eyes.

Astrid.

Was there really any doubt? Like honestly, she could have made a living off the ransoms from all the times she hijacked my mind. It was as if she had some crazy witchcraft or sorcery – there was no logical way to explain what happened when I was around her. Sometimes I was fine, and other times I felt a longing as if I were on the cusp of missing out on the biggest and most important opportunity of my life. Then there were times where it felt as if she grabbed my heart and squeezed like she were trying to strangle the life out of a dragon.

This morning was the epitome of the later.

It started just like any other – that is to say, completely mundane – and I was dangerously bored. I fed the dragons and no prodding coated them to do anything other than just sit quietly and mysteriously in their stone cages. I cleaned out my neck, which I deduced the night before was not as bad as I feared. The next stop was the healers hut to check up on Astrid and Fishlegs injuries to see how they were doing.

My mind was only filled with good intentions when I went to see them but then…actually, it would be easier if I just told the entire story.

_The healer's house was probably the only place in the entire world that the average Viking would admit to being afraid of. Not because there was anything scary about the small wooded cottage nestled up against the mountains, but because, by going in there, they knew that danger would be far and long between. There was no risk and trust me, even if there were a dragon raid, one glare from the healer and you were not moving a single muscle._

_Usually, the healer was the eldest woman of the village as men were too incompetent and impatient to handle the task but currently that was entirely accurate. Not because the eldest woman was a bad healer, quite the contrary in fact, but due to the elder's age she needed assistance. That was not a sign of weakness. Oh no, it was a sign of strength, only the very best and strongest Vikings could only hope to be half of what she was and had accomplished in her life._

_To assist her was a younger woman, still old enough to be my mother, but much younger nonetheless. Her golden hair was mystical; her brown eyes enthralling, and her body beautiful. She was without a doubt gorgeous and could act the part: her confident walk, strong legs and killer throw with a spear were alluring, but for whatever reason she was still single and to my knowledge had never been on a date with anyone. It was as if she invisible, a goddess to guide. Her name was Lofnhieor, and like most of the Village I simply ignored her the majority of the time as if she were not but a passing thought in the cold night wind._

_So, it was no surprise that I hardly noticed the elegant female Viking when I strolled into the healer's house. The structure and furniture of said building was quaint and practical, like all Viking homes to an extent, but here nothing was wasted. There were no dragon heads mounted on the walls with their flopping, dried out tongues hanging as if the creature were panting, there were no windows; in fact, there was not even a single painting or tapestry. Nope, just the essential tools that allowed for operation. Of course, this meant that the house smelled not just of an old lady, but a strange cognition of herbs, blood and baked goods. It was a very upsetting and disgusting scent that made your nose crinkle like an old mans skin._

_"What are you doing here?"_

_And right there, on a hard, uncomfortable bed in the middle of the room, lay Astrid. Her blue eyes narrowed and examined me with conflicting emotion, unlike her outright hostile and frustrated tone._

_I ignored her comment and cheerfully asked both her and Fishlegs, who lay on a similar bed over in the corner, "So how are you guys doing?"_

_Astrid didn't say a word, but her knuckles started to turn white as she intensely grabbed the sheet on her bed. Like a child with poorly contained excitement, the female Viking started to shake lightly, but I had a feeling it was not from joy or anticipation._

_Whether the inevitable eruption evaded Fishlegs or not I wasn't sure, but he did answer my question after a few moments of silence, "Dude, the books don't do 10 attack power justice. Those Nadders can hit hard man." The large Viking said with a smile before chuckling lightly._

_And he was right, a bandage covered Astrid's forehead, and her right arm – the one she was not gripping with – was tightly wound in a brace. Propped up on his bed, Fishlegs's leg was similarly trapped in wooly bondage._

_I said, "That's unfortunate; looks like you guys are doing alright though. I'm sure you'll get back there and teach that dragon a lesson soon."_

_Astrid's shaking increased to a more noticeable level and a narrowed frown appeared on Fishlegs face as he watched the young female Viking out of the corner of his eyes. Snapping his gaze back on me like a dragon snaps a log, he said, "Yeah, not sure if you saw what happened clearly, but Astrid was in the creatures blind spot. You know, in front of the nose? But the dragon must have had like plus 4 speed or something because it-"_

_"Don't even think about it Fishlegs." There was that icy cold tone that Astrid had suddenly become best friends with. Don't get me wrong, she was never overly cheerful and carefree – save when we were young children – but this open hostility and aversion to me was a recent development._

_"Uh, think about what?" Fishlegs asked hesitantly._

_Astrid hissed out, spit flying from her clenched teeth, "Don't you dare continue; he doesn't deserve to know the details."_

_As if she had tickled a sleeping bear, Fishlegs said, voice strong and full of conflict as if he were ready for a fight, "And why not?"_

_"If he were a real Viking, he would already know!" Astrid shouted out and stood up._

_I rolled my eyes and said to Fishlegs, sarcasm infused in my voice, "No problem Fishlegs, I must be a horse or something."_

_The explosion that followed was not unexpected, but still unwelcome nonetheless._

_Astrid roared out, louder than I have ever heard her speak before – she was not one to shout. The entire village must have heard it. "REAL VIKINGS LEARN HOW TO FIGHT DRAGONS; REAL VIKINGS HELP THEIR VILLAGE; REAL VIKINGS HELP EACH OTHER. AND WHAT DO YOU DO? GET IN EVERYONE'S WAY WITH YOUR FOOLISH THEORIES AND PATHETIC 'INVENTIONS' AND PUT US ALL IN HARMS WAY. THE WHOLE VILLAGE WISHES YOU DIDN'T EXIST AND YOU KNOW WHAT? WE WOULD BE BETTER OFF IF THAT WERE TRUE."_

_With Astrid, well anyone really, there comes a time when the truth comes out. No white-washy, beat-around-the-bush, but true, pure, dreadful honesty. It's only during those times that you really learned what people thought of you. And, I guess that was what Astrid thought of me._

_The female Viking continued, her frame bobbing from the exertion of her outburst, "I wouldn't be surprised if you were doing something as impudent as wandering around in the woods and trying to befriend those detestable monsters. That would be right up your alley." She subconsciously shook her head back and forth in disappointment._

_The fact that I was actually doing that made me feel so much worse. If she were wrong, I could have laughed it off, but that was the truth. She knew me – sure she didn't actually know that was going on – but she knew that I would try something like that. She was aware of who I was, the real me, and still thought I wasn't worth the air I used to breathe._

_Astrid wasn't done. "You will NEVER be a Viking. You may carry our name, but you don't know the companionship of your axe, the satisfaction when your enemies blood quenches the thirsty ground or the pride, the indescribable pride that a Viking feels for their village, their people."_

_I closed my eyes and tried to take a breath, but choked on something and coughed out. I should have some kind of comeback, but no snapping insult or witty comment came to mind._

_Twisting on my heels, I fled the scene as Astrid's harmonic, yet anger infused, voice chased me out the door like a guard dog. "You will forever be a failure; the black spot of Berk. If I, or anyone else in this village, never saw you again, it would be too soon."_

_It was then and there that I knew Astrid and me would never work out._

Yeah, not the best of mornings. Still, the sun was out, and the birds were tweeting in sweet little songs. Red, fluffy tailed Foxes scurried and chased panicky squirrels up trees. The river was clear, crisp and cool to the touch.

This clearing was a bastion of life – the river curved out of the woods and hugged the cliffs nearby. On one side of the stream, the darken greens and browns of the woods came alive, but here on the other side of the bank, grasses were prevalent. A small grouping of rocks scattered around like a child's toys littered throughout the plains. But that was not all that was there, large flowers of various colors reached out to the sky as if calling for the caring embrace of the sun. Life was all around me, picturesque and by focusing on that-

Who was I kidding…it hurt, as if a critical piece of me just died due to neglect and wasted effort. Maybe, if I had just tried harder. Now, however, I knew it was over. It would take the world, as we Vikings knew it, ending catastrophically before Astrid would ever look at me with something other than repulsion.

I knew it was something that would never truly heal – a wound that I would carry for the rest of my life. That's just the way it was. Still, even the most derelict parts of my mind agreed that it was over. The only way Astrid and I would ever be a thing is if she initiated it and apologized.

And the chances of that were, as Fishlegs would say, dwindling down to single digits.

The leggings on my knees suddenly grew wet and not from water in the river. Angrily, I stood up, spraying water all around like a dog drying itself. Stomping in a random direction, I wiped my nose with my arm and sniffled loudly; the sniffles quickly changed to sobs and I fell to my knees. Soon after, my head touched the ground and small pieces of rock and soil grabbed onto my hairs as my body shook lightly with sorrow.

What in the world was wrong with me? I was not one to cry, and now, in only a few days, my eyes shed tears like water from the clouds. It made me feel weak, and even though my mother had told me that tears showed our true inner strength, I couldn't help but take the views of the rest of the village: tears meant you were pathetic and unworthy.

Suddenly, the ground in front of me kicked up in a small dust cloud as something large moved rapidly. Without much concern for my own safety, I slowly tore my gaze off the brown earth and shifted it upward.

The dust cleared, and patterns of red and yellow petals rested in the wake. The usual mix and cluster of red and yellow that appeared when the wind made the petals dance was absent as the flower rested on the ground and it gave the plant a strange, almost deathly feel. The plant was large, the stem reaching almost a third of my height and the flower itself was as large as a dinner plate.

Shifting my gaze further upward in confusion, I notice not too far away, a hundred or so steps, a white and gray rock stained green with moss. Now the rock wasn't anything spectacular, but on top of it was a large, scaly black head that looked squished down as if the creature were trying to make itself look smaller. The two large green eyes carefully watched, and its ears twitched sharply to the side every few seconds in anticipation.

I laughed. It was as if an imaginary shackle clicked open and freed my soul – the pain was still there, increasing even, but it was no longer the only thing present.

Wiping my tears from my eyes, I said, "It couldn't be enough that I'm crying like a little girl, nope you had to go and give me a flower and really make me feel like a little girl."

The black head quickly retreated behind the rock, but I knew the creature was still there.

"You know, it's really ironic that you chose to give me this flower." I said not caring that the dragon couldn't understand me, I just wanted someone to listen. "You see, it's called Nights Bane due to the flowers sun-like appearance. An old legend claimed that it could be used to ward off Night Furies but that theory can safely be put to rest now."

The dragon moved out from behind the rock, its back arched high as it slinked toward me. The claws of the creature made not a sound as it moved with a curious glint in its large eyes.

"It reminds me of this old story that my people tell." I said and hesitated for only second, not noticing the dragon creeping up on me, even though it was in front of me – instead, the focus of my gaze was on the flower that I was twirling in my hands.

"The story is about two people, Sun and Moon – not Sol and Mani but two imaginary people, it's just a fairy tale after all. Anyway, these two people were truly unique. One was bright and cheerful, the other subdued and calculating, but even so their friendship and loyalty to one another was unmatched by even the gods. Never before had such power been invested in the bonds of individuals – it was said even true love couldn't match the compassion the two shared for one another. Some even wondered if they shared the same soul. When Sun's people – a race lost in time – declared war with Moon's the two of them refused to participate in the conflict. Both were shunned and considered dead to their society. With no other choice, the two left and were not heard of for many years."

The dragon was only ten paces or so away and sat down on its haunches like a dog with its ears perked up and its eyes watching intently.

"A few decades later, the unthinkable happened. Sun returned to his people and quickly joined them in their conflict. Moon was nowhere to be found. With the genius of Sun, his people quickly gained the tactical advantage and conquered the people that Moon used to call family. Sun was quickly nominated emperor and lorded over all. Terrible names he was called: from tyrant to murder, Sun was not loved by anyone. Both races quickly grew united in their hate, and a revolution formed. The leader was none other than Moon themself who appeared after decades of isolation. With a fire unlike any in their race, Moon rallied the people, and they toppled and took down Sun; with a final clash of swords, Moon ran his friend though but in his dying breath, Sun croaked out these words: 'It pains me to have done this, but know that it was all done for you. The one thing that you always desired, but I could never give you, was peace between our races. Now, however, both sides loathe and detest me rather than each other. They have arisen and fought through the trials I created for them like brother and sister. They have bonded in ways that are similar to you and I. And with my death, their hate will die with me. Consider this my last gift to you, my friend.' Suns death was celebrated and decreed a national holiday, but their hero of the hour, Moon, disappeared and was never heard from again."

Glancing up from the flower, I blinked rapidly when I noticed just how close the dragon was. No wonder these creatures were the masters and mistresses of the night: they could be eerily quiet.

"So…" I looked at the dragon for probably a minute or two and its greens eyes just looked right back almost as if we were engaged in a staring contest. "…uh, you know," I hesitated before continuing firmly, "With my people, when someone gives a gift it's expected that the gift or favor is returned adequately. So I guess I need to do something for you."

I could give the dragon another flower, but would the creature really understand the point of doing so? Well, it did give the flower in the first place so it must have some clue about materialistic things. And it understood the concept of the trade yesterday. Still, giving a flower, even if it were a different one, could be perceived as simply returning or politely rejecting the gift, and I definitely didn't want to give the dragon a reason to be annoyed with me. My eyes shifted to the pack I brought with me and an idea formed in my head as fast as a wooden hut lit aflame.

"How about this," I said and rummaged through my stuff. Struggling for a second, I eventually managed to grab my slippery query and pull out the juicy fish. It was originally my lunch, but I wasn't too hungry at the moment.

The dragon eyed the fish with apprehension as if it were trying to deduce a trap. Yet, under the calculating gaze, there was a cheerful, friendly demeanor just waiting to burst out. Seeing me hold the fish out toward the dragon, it carefully started to tiptoe its way over to me. It was amazing the way the dragon was moving: the back arched up and down like the slithering of a snake as the Night Fury took slow, calculating steps toward me.

Eventually, the dragon got close enough and started to lean forward toward the fish, its eyes darting back and forth between the fish and me. It opened its mouth, the red of gums a startling contrast to the dragons black scales.

"I could have sworn you had teeth before." I said as I leaned forward to examine the dragon in front of me.

The dragon's eyes stopped alternating and, quick as a running rabbit, razor-sharp teeth poked out of the gums like gophers popped out of their homes. Wasting not even a moment, the dragon lurched forward and grabbed the fish in its teeth. Taking a step back, the Night Fury threw the fish into the air and caught it in its mouth in one fell swoop. The light outline of the fish was visible as the food disappeared down the creature's throat. For a moment, the dragon appeared very far away as if it were looking but not seeing, then it licked its chops a few times and its green orbs focused on me. The dragon started approaching.

Feeling a bit intimidated, I put my hands in front of me and backed up as the large scaly head of the Night Fury advanced on my person. Something connected with the back of my heel and I felt my butt connect with the ground. Taking advantage of my now sitting position, the dragon moved its head directly above my legs and right in front of my face. The green eyes suddenly rolled to the back of the animal's head, and it started to cough or choke on something.

After a second, half of a soaked, flabby fish plopped into my lap with a light splat.

"Uh," I said, "That's nice, but you know I'm really just not hungry right now."

The dragon's gaze shifted between myself and the fish as it watched expectantly.

I sighed and took hold of the fish in both hands. It smelt terrible, a strange combination of something that I could only call dragon, seawater, salt and leather. It probably tasted similar too.

I rose the offering to my mouth and sunk my teeth into the scales of the fish. Raw fish was never fun to eat, but usually you would remove the skin and prepare it first. An intuitive feeling told me that the dragon would not taking kindly to me taking out my…my knife! I forgot to bring it with me, did that have something to do with the dragons friendliness?

Moving that intriguing idea to the recesses of my brain, my attention shifted back to the fish that my teeth were still harbored in, and it was at that moment that my tongue correlated the taste to my brain.

Have you ever eaten trash that was drenched in rainwater? Yeah, me neither, but I'm guessing that's how it would have tasted. It must have been something from the dragon's stomach before it regurgitated the fish: I've had raw fish before and it tasted nothing like that.

Biting a chunk out, I struggled with my gag reflex in a preverbal tug of war. At the end of the day, I would not be denied as I conquered my body and swallowed the piece of food.

Grinning with success, I turned my gaze to the black animal in front of me. It gulped loudly and watched me.

Softly groaning, I extended my arms out to my sides with the intention of standing up. The finger of my left hand felt, not dirt as expected, but something that was soft and tickled my fingers a little like wool would. It was the stem of the Nights Bane flower from before. The flower really was beautiful, the reds and yellows stood out like a crow in white winter snow. Grabbing and lifting up to my face I quickly examined it once more.

Obviously interested in my query, the dragon leaned forward to sniff the petals.

Upon taking a huge whiff of the flower, the dragon suddenly reared backed and shook its head to and fro with its eyes closed. The dragon started to cough and sputter uncontrollably, little bits of saliva and visible, murky, green gas coming out of its mouth.

"It is true! It really is Nights Bane," I said and fell backward onto the ground, my limbs waving wildly with uncontrollable mirth. I'm not sure what was so funny, but the way the dragon was hacking was hilarious. It was obviously not in any pain, the Night Fury looked much more annoyed and frustrated than anything else.

Eying my prone and wiggling form with disgust and wounded pride, the dragon flicked its head into the air like an arrogant lady and started to strut away at a calm pace acting as if it were too cool to care.

With a boisterous smile, I watched the dragon as it marched away toward the river. It paused and watched me out of the corner of its eye before bending its head down to drink. The dragon's throat quivered as the creature drank and after a second, it quickly coughed out some water and tried to clear its throat. A bit more nourishment and the dragon stood back up and threw a nasty glare my way.

"Don't look at me," I said, my tone waving a bit in my joviality, "You only have yourself to blame."

The dragon ignored my speech and approached again. I chuckled and watched as it came closer; of course once it got near, I saw the mischievous glint dancing in the Night Fury's green eyes.

I noticed it far too late.

The dragon apparently decided that it would be a good idea to drench me in stream water. When it was at the river, it must not have swallowed its last drink so when it approached me it had ample ammo.

Water dripped from my hair and my shirt stuck to my body like a second skin. It made me look like a drowned rat. The dragon was very pleased with itself if its expression and twinkling eyes were anything to go by.

"Very funny," I said and tried to wrinkle the water out of my clothing. The dragon rolled its eyes as I pouted and tried to dry myself.

Glancing up, I noticed just how close the Night Fury was and found my hand subconsciously rise to touch the winged animal.

The Night Fury watched my hand and quickly shifted back into a defensive stance. It started growling, not with the intensity or hate I previously heard, but more of a cautionary, stay-away-from-me tone.

Quick as a flash, the dragon rushed off to the side. The Night Fury's wings opened up, and the dragon shot into the air and disappeared before I could even comprehend what happened.

I waited around for a few minutes to see if the dragon would return, but alas neither the sound of flapping wings nor the sight of black scales reached my senses. With a disappointed sigh, I turned and headed back to Berk, my pack lightly bouncing on my back due to the almost skip-like-spring in my step.

The pain was still there from Astrid, my chest ached, and my body felt weak as if I were famished, but even so, with the distractions my new companion brought the thought of Astrid no longer lodged itself on the forefront of my mind.

Only the best of friends stood around you when the going got tough; only the best of friends knew when to ignore your pleas to leave them alone and give the companionship you needed.

Of course, I never knew what that actually felt like, having an amicable and dependable friend. No Viking fit those parameters, but perhaps, just perhaps, a four-legged, winged, scaly dragon would be able to.

* * *

The mead hall was one of the most extravagant buildings in the entire village. Two massive statues guarded the entrance; the fire from the torches caused light to bounce and reflect off the peculiar and awkward shapes creating a myriad of waving shadows that danced and blended on the ground.

Feeding my hand through my hair, I quickly tried to shake off the excess water. The rain was coming down, a common occurrence for this time of the year, in voluminous sheets of precipitation. It was surprising that the torches had enough fortitude to remain ablaze with the abuse they received.

Reaching forward, my hands touched the large wooden doors in front of me. Etched there, with obvious care, were two serpent-like dragons that faced each other as if there were a mirror between them. It was always amazing to take a minute to feel the care and obvious devotion spent on making these carving. With how much detestation we Vikings supposedly held for dragons, we spend a suspicious amount of time creating lavish sculptures and figurines of the beasts.

I steeled my feet into the ground and pushed the large door open. It took a bit of effort, but the door was well maintained and thus the task possible for someone of my physique. Inside the Mead Hall, there was a large, circular pit in the middle where fires were often lit for warmth. In times of excessive conflict, when meetings were held here, it often doubled as a table or stage; a large piece of wood was brought in and placed on top so that the largest volume of people possible could witness the demonstration. Around the edges, tables adorned the rest of the main part of the Mead Hall where Vikings talked, ate, arm-wrestled and gambled with each other. Beautiful carvings and iron castings made up the pillars the prevented the roof from collapsing on our heads.

I headed, with dread, toward the group of my peers gathered at a table on the left side of the illustrious building. Both Astrid and Fishlegs were present; the only sign of their injury was the cloth around Astrid's forehead and the slight swelling of Fishlegs leg. The healer must have let them go earlier today.

Gobber was marching around the table, his claw like hand pointing and poking as he emphasized his points; ones that he claimed would be the difference between life and death. Of course, knowing Gobber, he was probably telling them stories of his resilience and how they ought to emulate it.

Tuffnut and Ruffnut looked half amused and half bored with the proceedings, and Snotlout was playing with a knife on the table. Fishlegs was watching Gobber pace with intense conviction, but there was something just beneath of the surface of his eyes that betrayed his worry; for a minute, I wondered if he were thinking about me. The last member of the party, I took deliberate care in ignoring; there was no desire to see or hear anything about her.

Or course, the skipping of my heart, the pain in my chest and my wobbly legs directly contradicted that notion.

For a second, I toyed with the idea of going somewhere else, but that was quickly put aside. I always went to the same table; the creaky and poorly preserved one that was right next to where they were sitting. It was my table, my haunting grounds: it was the last table that Fishlegs and me ate at as friends.

Grabbing a plate and goblet, my feet clattered on the ground as I moved to my destination doing my best to ignore my fellow teenagers.

Gobber called out to me breaking my isolation like a rock through the surface of still water, "Hiccup! Remember, we're going to clean the Kill Ring tomorrow."

I nodded my head at the large burly man.

Snotlout turned in his seat and looked at me with a smirk. "Careful, oh cousin of mine, I won't be there to protect you from the big scary beasties," he said.

Before I could defend myself, Ruffnut chimed in, "That's a good thing. With your ugly mug around, Hiccup would be in far worse shape."

A smile grew on Ruffnut's face as she spoke, and Tuffnut started barking in laughter.

Tuffnut quickly added, "Yeah, the dragons would get pissed looking at your face and fall into a blood rage!"

Snotlout leaned over and hit his friend on the top of the head. Tuffnut's head bounced off the table with a thud. No one noticed or cared. Snotlout said, "Good, no need to chase them down, just fight and kill."

I ignored the little squabble that broke out and moved to sit down. After a minute of playing with my knife, I noticed that the wood underneath the blade was carved in specific shapes; shapes that formed a dragon. Quickly, with a light sense of panic, I cut little X's for eyes just in case anyone came over. Of course, they just reminded me of the Night Fury from earlier and its curious reaction to Nights Bane. A smile rose to my face that stuck like a stain on the counter – no matter how hard I rubbed, it just wouldn't disappear.

Gobber's thundering strides pulled my gaze up from the table as the man paced around the others like a wolf cornering its prey. He was blabbing on about something to do with cutting off dragon tails.

I quickly glimpsed at Astrid before tearing my vision away. She was sitting there fidgeting a bit, as if doing her best not to look at me, with an apathetic scowl etched on her face.

Gobber said, "You need to eat, live and breathe this stuff."

Stopping between Snotlout and Ruffnut at the head of the table, the bulky Viking threw something into the air. Before the object could come crashing down, Gobber swiped his hand on the table and cleared a space. The sound of the cup and plate hitting the ground came at the same time the object landed on the newly cleared spot with a thud. It was a book.

"The dragon manual." Gobber said and resumed his pacing. "Everything we know about every dragon we know of."

The confused expressions around the table were quite amusing. Snotlout eyed the book with one eye closed and fingered his knife as if trying to figure out the best place to stab the offending piece of literature. Tuffnut just looked down at it with a sense of disgust: I knew that look quite well; it was the same one he wore around me.

The small thumps of rainwater hitting the roof of the hall were barely distinguishable, a mere hum, but the thunder that just started, even muted through the thick walls and roof, was easily audible.

Gobber's frame slouched slightly, and he said, voice carrying just the barest of disappointment, "No attacks tonight, study up."

It was strange. You would think that the rain would deter fire-breathing lizards, but that was not the case. No, only when thunder and lightning appeared did the attacks became an impossibility. No one was sure as to why.

The kids seemed even more horrified as the large man hobbled away. A knife Tuffnut was holding clattered to the table with a clang.

"Wait, you mean read?" the long, blond-haired male asked.

"While we're still alive?" Ruffnut added in affirmation of her brother.

Snotlout leaned back on the bench and said, "Why read words," the Viking hit the table with a clenched fist and a bone bounced into the air, "when you could just kill the stuff the words tell you stuff about?"

Fishlegs threw in his opinion. "Oh, I've read it like seven times. There's this water dragon that breathes boiling water at your face. And there is this other one that –"

The others eyed the large Viking as if he just came down with a disease.

Eventually, hearing enough, Tuffnut, closed his left hand like a bird's beak in a symbol to shut up and interrupted the lecture. "Yeah, sounds great." The Viking sloughed back and said, "There was a chance I was going to read that."

"But now..." his sister added rolling her eyes. Ruffnut's expression was completely bored, and she wore a crooked grin as she watched Fishlegs for his response.

She would have to keep waiting as Snotlout stood up and with obvious conviction said, "You guys read; I'll go kill stuff."

The others, save Astrid, jumped up from the table and followed the prideful Snotlout out the door. Ruffnut assented their arguing and bickering by hitting her brother before they left the Mead Hall. The door closed with an enormous bang.

Astrid quickly shot a glance at me, and I felt my heart jump up. Not like times past, this time instead of elation, the feeling was only that of dread and apprehension.

Throwing one more nasty glare, the female Viking stood and marched over to the door and exited into the night.

The mead hall was surprisingly quiet as the last stragglers were clear on the other side of the room. With a quick look around and noticing that no one was watching, I skulked over to the other table and looked at the book.

It was very old leather with torn and weathered bindings; scars and cuts marred its surface as if it had survived war. On the cover was a dragon curled in on itself like a whirlpool surrounded by an interlinked chain.

Tentatively reaching forward, I opened the book and started to read.

Dragon classifications were the initial topic: a strength class, fear class, mystery class and others were present.

Quickly flipping to a page in the book, I landed on the picture of a strange whale-like dragon with a spiky, narrow tail.

Thunderdrum. This reclusive dragon inhabits sea caves and dark tide pools. When startled, the Thunderdrum will produce a concussive sound wave that can kill a man at close range. Extremely dangerous, kill on sight.

Progressing forward in the book, I came to a stop on a dragon with massive wings and a small slender spine. It had two horns coming out the back of its head and a long, slim snout.

Timberjack. This gigantic creature has razor-sharp wings that can slice through full-grown trees. Extremely dangerous, kill on sight.

The next page contained a dragon with a pouch under its chin and a single curved horn on its head.

Scauldron. Sprays scalding water at its victims. Extremely dangerous, kill on sight.

Not finding what I was looking for, I quickly started to flip through the pages.

Gronkle, the Zippleback, the Skrill, Bonenapper, Whispering Death.

Still not finding my query, I found my eyes moving down from the names as I flipped through the thick tome.

Burns its victims; buries its victims; chokes its victims; turns its victims inside out.

Extremely Dangerous, extremely dangerous, kill on sight, kill on sight.

Then, on a page almost entirely blank, the words Night Fury reflected back at me and seemed to sparkle and twitch knowingly.

Night Fury, speed unknown, size unknown. The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself. Never engage this dragon. Your only chance: hide and pray it does not find you.

I grabbed my sketchbook from my pack and glanced around the room with as little suspicion as I could muster. No one was even remotely interested in me. Settling on the correct page, I tossed my book down into the dragon manual: the image of the most elusive and unknown dragon staring back at me.

One sentence from the book stood out in my mind like a torch in the deep woods at midnight. Your only chance: hide and pray it does not find you.

That was completely erroneous, and if that were wrong, what else in this book was? Fingers lightly twitching, I moved to pick up my sketch and turn the page to read more when I was suddenly interrupted.

"Hey, where did they all go?" Gobber's voice asked as it approached from behind me.

In a frenzied rush, one that I hope was not too obviously panicked, I snapped the book closed.

I turned around and with perhaps a bit too much emotion and enthusiasm said, "They ran off when you disappeared."

Thankfully, Gobber just rubbed his chin, and a chuckle came out of the man's mouth.

"Good, very good." He paused to wink at me. "Well, I think its time that I give them a pop quiz. Tomorrow morning sounds good eh?"

I shook my head back and forth with my eyes closed. That was just like Gobber.

"And what happens when they get an answer wrong?" I asked.

Gobber rubbed his hands together with glee. "Lets just put it this way, reading won't seem so bad next time."

I really doubted that; Gobber underestimated just how stupid Snotlout and Tuffnut could be, but then again, Fishlegs could likely carry them through any quiz Gobber could come up with if the topic was random facts of dragon knowledge.

"Well, the night's not getting any younger and I got preparation to do." The large man reached over and grabbed the book.

My eyes widened in fright, and I tried to think of an excuse for Gobber to give me the manual back, but the large man was already stomping away with a cheery limp.

"Hey Gobber, I wasn't done with that!" I yelled out to the retreating man.

"Too bad kid, I need it." He waved in a dismissive manner as he strolled out of the building.

My sketch of the Night Fury was still inside.


	9. That One Moment

I hate doing this so much. No really, I loathe putting author notes ahead of a chapter. So why am I doing it here? Well, at this point, the story hits a very important milestone. Of course, I apologize for this chapter releasing later than usual but at least the chapter is longer than normal.

Okay, a few important notes.

I have only ever watched the movie and have not seen the show nor read the books. Because of this, I am bound to miss factual things such as background tidbits and what not. This should be expected, as it will happen. Remember, this story is AU and I've taken a few liberties to change some things. If that bothers you, I'm sorry but that's just the way this story is going to be. That said, please feel free to tell me when I'm wrong, it doesn't hurt my feelings in any way and can help me in the future.

Also, I respond to every review I receive but am unable to do so with some of the participants due to them being anonymous or not accepting PMs. So, naturally, if you wish to hear from me please log into an account.

Finally, I'm sorry for the poor writing in this story – especially this chapter – but there is a lot of content to write in a short time and keeping the plot together can be difficult without rewrites. If it feels like characters are changing personalities rapidly (Gobber comes to mind), that is intentional – there are things happening that Hiccup is not seeing and are influencing events.

That said, thanks for putting up with this story and continuing to read. It's always nice as an author to see that your work is getting read.

End Notes.

**Lightning Always Strikes Twice**

* * *

Chapter 7: That One Moment

_"Sometimes it's the same moments that take your breath away that breathe purpose and love back into your life."  
_

* * *

"And how are you doing today, you ungrateful lizard?"

It was feeding time again, and I was back in the Kill Ring standing in front of the leftmost cage – the home of the same Monstrous Nightmare that terrorized me a few nights ago.

Of course, no sound answered my intrinsic and insightful greeting.

"You know, I would think that you would appreciate some diversion from the standard monotony of your life. Gray walls can't possibly be more interesting them me."

Like when a teacher asks a class a difficult question, the air remained motionless and silent.

Shrugging, I pushed an assortment of fish into the creature's cage and moved on.

As I approached the next cage – the home of the emotional dragon – I cheerfully called out to my query, "Greetings, I am Hiccup and will be servicing you on this fine day. If you could be so nice as to inform me of your existence by a single chirp, growl or howl, I would greatly appreciate it."

If anyone from my Village came around right now, I would probably die of embarrassment and then find myself a stumbling mess as I tried to explain why I was talking to dragons.

What can I say, there was a lot on my mind – a cup that was overflowing with water, and spilling just a bit helped keep things clear. So, I talked to the dragons even if they wouldn't answer.

Of course, just like everything else in this town that hated change more than Snotlout did education, the situation remained identical from the days previous.

Sighing, I began the frustrating task of feeding the beast. In theory, such a duty was simple, but due to the irregular ground and poor equipment – after all, there was no way I was sticking my hand through that flap – the task was much more laborious and time-consuming than you would think. And the best way to deal with such a tedious task was, of course, to avoid it, but as that was not an option, an ample alternative was to do something to keep your mind busy while you worked – conversation worked wonders in this regard.

And of course, my would-be-conservationists were apparently introverts and didn't want anything to do with me.

Nonetheless, I tried again, "You know, it's generally polite to give thanks after you receive a gift."

Nothing.

"How about I let you out of there and you agree to firebomb Snotlout for me?"

Nothing.

"I'm going to cut you up, smoke your remains and sell it as jerky," I shouted at the door. Eyes lighting up briefly, I paused and rubbed my chin in contemplation. "I could call it deadly crisps."

Smoke rushed about from under the door flap as the dragon snorted.

"What?" I asked with a sly smirk. "It's a fine name; in fact…HOLD UP!"

Ignoring any protest in my muscles or hesitations in my mind, I dropped to my knees in front of the cage.

"Ha!" I cupped my hands and shouted directly at the flap. "I won the game so you can start acting normal again. Maybe growl a bit or switch it up and act like an emotionless statue once in a while." I said sarcastically.

Wait.

I stood back up, my mirth draining off my face like wet paint in an unrelenting downpour.

Could the dragon understand what I was saying? Why else would it react strictly to that sentence – or was it just responding to my voice? You know, like the way a dog would react. When you said treat it reacted, not to the word itself, but rather to your demeanor.

For the next twenty or thirty minutes, the answer that I sought continued to elude my grasp, but it was not for lack of trying.

With the cresting sun bathing the Kill Ring in wondrous and warm yellow light, I admitted defeat in my search of answers, for now. I sighed loudly and moved toward the next dragon.

Still, at least one of them did something, and since it was completely asinine to think that dragons could understand what we were saying, it must have to do with something in my voice. Right? The tone, or frequency, or volume…something must have caused the reaction.

I tried to get the third dragon to react, with both insults and clever statements, but neither caused even a dust bunny to hop. That wasn't surprising really, I didn't have my heart in it; nope, instead, I worried what would happen if Gobber showed up before I finished. So I sped on.

Somehow, in my haste, I completely missed the fifth door. How, I have no idea, but remembering Gobber's words, it was home to a Terrible Terror so it wouldn't take long.

Quickly finishing the rest of the homes, I moved toward the Terrible Terror's. This species of dragon never took up much of my brainpower; they were just too forgettable to warrant such intense focus. However, Berk always had bad luck with regards to the little beasties – they seemed to cause some catastrophe nearly ever time they swarmed Berk like bees to a beehive. There was the time with the Mead Hall, the time with the docks when about hundred of them 'commandeered' that ship and then there was that time with the boulders and the cliff, among others. Of course, during those excursions I was always present and in the thick of things, so maybe the two of us were just a volatile combination.

So, naturally, it shouldn't have been a surprise when things didn't sail as if it were a smooth, sunny, wind-sparse day.

The flap in the creature's cage wasn't budging; something was jamming it.

Well, thankfully the wind was only gusting lightly – that was easy enough to fix.

I moved over to the lever that would release the flap and allow it to extend all the way. The wood of the lever was rustic and irritating to the touch. Gripping it with determination, it shifted into place as I expended energy into the contraction.

As soon as the gears released their uncompromising hold on the iron flap, the sound of claws clipping on stone rang through the Kill Ring like birds in the early morning. My gaze snapped to the door; the flap was swinging like a pendulum – swinging just like that Gronkle's eye had on Stoneblood's chest.

Okay, the wind just picked up considerably, but my own stupidity was to blame this time.

Glancing over my shoulder, I noticed that the, newly freed, Terrible Terror was now running toward-

"What are you doing!" I exclaimed and rushed toward the small, spiky, green dragon.

The little lizard opened its maw and fired, with the precision of a trained archer, a bolt of fire right at a wooden rack that held about twenty or so weapons for the Kill Ring. The entire wooden structure caught up in a blaze.

Yeah, because using wood in anything dealing with dragons was a great idea.

The fire ate at the wood like a beaver and was accompanied by periodic sounds of metal hitting stone as the weapons drooped and fell to the ground.

By the time I got close enough to feel the heat on my skin, the little delinquent dragon had already lit two more racks of weapons.

Facing the wavering flames, I groaned.

The fire danced in my eyes like the Village on a festival when a sound different form the crackling of wood and the clattering of steel reached my ears.

A squeal. An excited, as-if-I-just-found-candy, high-pitched squeal that sounded more obnoxious and intrusive than the young children I sometimes watched during some of the dragon raids.

When I saw why, my eyes opened to a comical size; I rushed forward and almost tripped over myself.

"Don't even think about it!" I yelled at the culprit.

The little dragon had found my pack – the pack that I was going to take when I went to see my new companion later on. That was not the problem. No, the problem was the two back legs that wiggled in the air in pure unaltered enthusiasm. The rest of the dragon was buried somewhere inside and out of my vision.

Reaching the rascal, I quickly grabbed the two back legs and started to tug. The dragon was smooth to the touch: warm like a hearth fire and full of energy, it was nothing like you would imagine from looks alone.

The squeal simply rose in pitch and the dragon clamped down on something inside. Both the little terror and the pack rose into the air, and I waved the two around like some thick, awkward club. Of course, two second later I dropped them both in pure fright.

There was a clatter of footsteps up above: someone was coming.

I quickly turned toward the pack that was now laying on the ground. The little dragon was sitting inside with its head poking out, watching me with a piece of jerky, resting like a limp fish, in its mouth and the most impish glint I had ever seen.

Ignoring the dragons cute posture, I quickly pushed down on the small creatures head and tied the top of the pack closed.

Not a second too late either as the Kill Ring opened up and in marched Gobber.

The pack was wiggling like a boat in a hurricane, so I sat on it to try to stop the motion. But man, that didn't do much to curb the little creature. They were shockingly strong.

"Hiccup!" the large man roared out to me with enthusiasm as he marched forward with confidence.

The pack froze like a river in midwinter.

Thankfully, the fires no longer burned, but the ash and scattered weapons made it quite clear that something occurred.

"What happened here?" Gobber asked as he looked around the area. His voice was hesitant and slow as if he were afraid of the answer.

Thinking quickly, I said, "I was checking out the doors and one of the dragons managed to shoot some fire out and melt the wood."

Again, almost no stutter; I was getting better at this whole lying thing – of course, it was more of a twist to the truth, I just omitted that the dragon got out and was hiding in my pack. Hopefully, Gobber would just assume that the dragons sniped the racks from under the doors or something.

Gobber shook his head, sputtered and angrily said, "Those devious, deceitful mongrels. We're going to have to do something about that – I got some suitable punishments for 'em."

The blacksmith's comments were heading in a distressful direction. I don't care if you're my worse enemy – Snotlout excepted of course – but you were not going to get into trouble because of my lies.

"Don't worry about it; I took care of it," I said with a casual wave.

Gobber blinked and then broke into a huge smile but didn't say anything.

The man continued to look at me with reverence as if his child just grew up and I tried to calm my nerves. The Terrible Terror was being, thankfully, quiet and unmoving almost as if it could tell what was going on.

"As soon as the others arrive we should get started. I want to get out of here as soon as we can," Gobber said.

"Who all is showing up?" I asked, slightly dreading the answer.

"Just some people from around the Village-"

Gobber went on a rant about various Vikings from around the village and honestly I didn't care too much about whom. I was just stalling for time. I supposed I could just kidnap the dragon, but some intuitive feeling told me that would be a terrible idea yet, how in Thor's name, was I supposed to get the dragon back in its cage without anyone noticing?

Of course, I did notice the distinctive lack of five names from Gobber's list.

I asked, "Your protégées aren't going to help us?"

Yeah, Astrid and Fishlegs just got out of the healers supervision, but this seemed like a perfect time to expose them to more dragons.

"Why would they?" The man asked with genuine confusing in his voice.

"We'll," I asked slowly, "we could use the help and they need the experience, right?"

Gobber answered immediately with a wave of his hand, "Nah, they would cause more problems than good – although they will be here soon, likely before we finish, but they will not help us."

The large man moved to check on some equipment in one of the corners. Seeing my opportunity, I grunted inaudibly as I picked up my pack and moved toward the fifth cell. I called out as I walked, "Oh and why is that?"

Gobber's voice was a bit muddled as the man rummaged through various ropes, weapons and other tools. "They are not ready for the situation, when it comes down to that moment when a split section reaction defines who you as a person. They would panic."

The man turned around to face me with a copious amount of rope in his hand.

I didn't stop in my movements; to do so would be too suspicious. However, to make it seem as if I had a purpose, I quickly snapped the lever back into place and picked up the basket of fish that I used to feed the dragons.

"I doubt Astrid would get caught in the moment." I called out.

Gobber shook his head and said, almost sadly, "Astrid is the one I worry about the most." He dropped the bundle of ropes in the center of the Kill Ring, "It's very different fighting a dragon in class to actually doing it out there."

I paused and ignored the slight wiggling in the pack – the dragon was getting restless. With confusion etched on my face, I said, "And how is this even remotely real? It's still in the Kill Ring, and you're right here with them."

Gobber hobbled back to the side of the Kill Ring and grabbed, yet again, more rope.

"One dragon ever few days is intense enough for them, but we are going to have to deal will all six in just one short morning – they would make a mistake in the name of glory," the large burly man accented his speech with animated arm waving, the ropes in his possession swinging to and fro like vines from a tree.

Really Gobber? So all my peers are unable to handle this and yet here I am. Do you even think sometimes? Actually, what has gotten into you lately? You are usually never this clueless.

"Hey Gobber, are you alright?" I, very tentatively, asked.

"Huh?" the man grunted out. "Yeah…why do yeah ask?"

I carefully and slowly said each word, making sure not to offend my mentor, "You just seem very distant."

"Would you be shocked if I said I was getting tired of it all?" the man said in almost a whisper – but I still managed to hear it: a whisper for Gobber was like a light bellow for normal peeps.

"Sorry what was that?" I politely asked, wondering if he would even think about repeating or elaborating the statement.

"Nothing kid, just tired from dealing with the life problems of one of your peers – it's not easy for her you know." Goober said and added as an afterthought, "Nor me, either."

No, I didn't know, but I had one really good guess about whom you're refereeing to.

The man dropped more rope onto the center pile – the pile was as tall as me and half of Gobbers height – what in the world was he planning to do with all that rope.

Annoyed with the silence, I decided to continue the conversation. I knew Gobber would remain mute about what he was referring to. It was infuriating, but then again it wasn't any of my business. Well, it wouldn't have been my business if Astrid didn't go and make it personal. Still, why even mention something if you are not going to explain or defend yourself. But even regarding all that, what I really wanted to know was why in the world I was here if my peers, who were taking a class to fight dragons, couldn't be.

So I asked, "And what about me?"

"What about you?"

I rolled my eyes and tried to make it clearer for the Viking, "Why am I helping then?"

"Because you're Hiccup." Gobber looked completely confused and lost like a pup without its mother in a cold winter blizzard.

I connected the dots. "And I'm expendable is that it?" I choked out as my heart sunk a bit.

"Did I ever say that?" Gobber replied instantly and with ferocity.

The pack started to wiggle again.

Gobber continued on, "Stoick and me are brothers in all but blood; I would die before I put you in needless danger. You're here because you can handle this. Hiccup, you should be proud – you're resilient; no matter what crazy mess nature throws at you, you always make it through with your head held high. That's the measure of a not just a true Viking, but a true man."

I looked at the man with a slack-jawed expression. There was no way he could think that, right? Dad and me have never had the best relationship, and he was undoubtedly my fatherly figure, but he had a tendency to ignore me, which I liked to think was because of his duties to the village. But this here, this bubbling feeling of pride and confidence from Gobber's words was unknown to me. Was it what having a normal father was like?

"The rest of the village doesn't seem to agree with you," I sadly responded. I'm not sure why, not after all the crap they had said and put me through, but their opinion still mattered to me in the end.

Gobber laughed and hit his belly with his claw-like hand. "They will one day, probably in a burst of dragon fire, explosions and village-wise devastation. "

The look I gave Gobber caused the man's boisterous mood to fall. He sighed and looked at me with a rare edge of wisdom in his eyes.

"You're Stoick's son, greatness is practically in your blood – just be yourself and the rest will fall into place."

I could get behind that idea.

"So, not only a few days you wanted me to stay in the forge and keep out of trouble. What changed?" I asked.

It took Gobber a minute to respond, and when he did, it was with a reflecting glint in his eye as he examined his hand-claw apparatus. "You know of that statue in the Mead Hall? The one in the far corner with the scarf and the spear?"

Of course, I did – it was one of my favorite statues in the place since the Viking it depicted was also of smaller physique. In a different way to myself – where I was skinny, the man engraved in stone was short, incredibly short as if he were permanently a child.

"I knew that man. And he was a bit like you – most people thought he was a waste of space. But one day, on a cold and wild night, the beasts appeared with unrelenting fury. There was a special guest with them that day; well, more like a party of guests: dragons that spun and created vortexes of fire; dragons that could mesh into the air around them and disappear; dragons with the unholy and cursed body of skeletons. But worst of all was the green and gold snake-like dragon. It seemed to lead the assault against the village as stupid as that sounds. All would have been lost, but that young Viking, he saved us. His knowledge and fortitude allowed us to turn the tide, and when the serpent beast would have killed your father, the lad sacrificed himself so that Stoick could live."

Gobber paused to catch his breath. "I saw him a few days before the battle. He had this glint in his eye – this fire and passion that you couldn't describe. It was the only time I have ever seen it. Not even your father has ever worn it. Now, however, I can add one more to the list. You, Hiccup, also have that fire in your eye."

Gobber continued, this time with a smile and more lighthearted tone. "It wasn't there when you and the Monstrous Nightmare destroyed half of Berk, but I saw it last night in the Mead Hall. Although, I'll admit, I don't know what caused the change, but I'm proud of yeah regardless!"

The large man clapped me on the back – honestly I wasn't even aware that I had walked to the center and joined him. The pack that contained a dragon-like package was still located near the fifth cell door and was unmoving if one didn't count the light wind fluttering the material.

Was I really changing that much?

Gobber said, "Now enough of that, we need to get ready-"

"Wait, wait. Time out" I quickly backpedaled and waved frantically at the man. "Even if what you said is true, I thought you believed in learning by fire. How will my peers ever learn to handle the pressure, as you so elegantly put it, if they are never exposed to it?"

"There is a difference to learning in a similar situation and experiencing an event like this. Trust me, you'll find the dragons are a bit meaner when we do this then they would be in our standard training meetings."

"And why would that be?"

"Dunno," Gobber shrugged. "The best guess is they just don't feel intimidated by the youngins and would rather toy with them before killing them, but when you bring in the adults the beast don't mess around and go straight for the throat."

With a pause, Gobber turned his gaze skyward. After a moment he continued, "And with that comes the chance that things won't go to plan. I'm not going to let any of them get hurt trying to do something dumb in the name of glory."

"And glory is worthless?" I asked the loaded question.

Gobber glared at me and said, "Don't treat me like a fool; glory is what we live for, but it's a result of our actions, not the motivation. Or at least, that's the way it should be and is the way I'll teach."

Wow, a truly wise statement from Dad's good friend – it was no wonder that I could stand him for more than a few minutes.

The clatter of wheels and footsteps interrupted my thoughts and Gobber turned toward the entrance.

"Alright, now we can get this going." A loud clap accompanied Gobber's voice as the man headed toward the commotion.

Around a dozen or so Vikings poured into the Kill Ring – I knew of their names but not of their personalities. They brought with them a large wooden and iron cart. It barely fit through the entrance of the Kill Ring and was quite an intimidating vehicle due to the clanking of iron and chains and the squeaks of the wheels. Carts of this nature had but one purpose, to transport goods, or in this case, to transport unruly, dangerous, and pokey-at-all-ends riders.

The Vikings moved in a frenzied haste as if they were worker ants trying to appease their queen. I still had no clue what to do with the Terrible Terror that was still free from its cage. Thankfully, the creature was keeping quiet, or it managed to escape my bag, and I didn't notice. Before I had time to dwell on such a thought, or really took any time to comprehend what was going on around me, Gobber waved me over to him.

"Alright Hiccup, you know how we are going to do this?" Gobber's voice was deep and booming yet startling in its clarity.

It was rare that Gobber was in this form – he was so concentrated on his task that he reminded me of a hawk mid-dive, nothing would be able to distract him from his target.

The burly Viking continued before I could make a peep. "We're going to open the door, and the dragon will burst out, we need to restrain the bugger and then we can move in and clean up their disgusting nest."

I opened my mouth to ask a question, but Gobber just went on and completely ignored my attempt, "We're going to start on the right – the Hideous Zippleback – and move toward the left. Ready? Good!"

The man waddled away and left me standing there clueless and confused. I blinked a few times. Sure, I knew exactly what they planned on doing, but I didn't know what my role was in all of this.

"Hey Gobber-" I called out, but it was too late. Somehow, in what felt like ten seconds, the entire entourage got into position and prepped to open the gate. It was an interesting scene: the Vikings held their axes and swords in a ready stance and stared at a wall with rapt attention as if it had insulted their lineage.

I, with a light groan, moved toward the group of Vikings right as Gobber, signaling and calling out to everyone with much arm waving and pointing, pulled on the lever.

Gobber was right – it wasn't like before with the Gronkle. When that fat dragon came out it had been dazed as if it wasn't sure what was going on.

That hesitation was long gone here. In the creatures yellow, bulbous eyes – lit like the flame of a torch and burning with the same intensity – hate poured out in a vile fashion like mud down a mountain, and focused on exactly one thing, causing as much damage as possible.

Hideous Zippleback's were infamous for their two different heads. One that secreted a disgusting and explosive gas that smelled a bit like burned fish and Gobber's old socks and another head that, with the snapping and clattering of its teeth, created a spark that caused the cloud to go boom with spectacular, and often messy, results.

The large dragon rushed out with its heads interlocked like two pieces of a puzzle, the little barbs along the creature's neck allowing for stabilization. Green gas started firing from the right head with unusual force; the gas launched out like a projectile – easily reaching over half of the creatures length almost instantly – and before it could disperse and thus lower its density, the second head would spark, and an explosion would rip down the line of gas like a shot from a bow. The entire process took less than a second. Never before had I seen this type of hyper aggression from a Zippleback, usually, they just released massive quantities of gas and caused large-scale, yet weak, explosions.

I heard Gobber's voice call out, "Wait it out, the creature will get tired and drained soon enough."

The dragon was clever; it only used its most precious resource when it thought it could hit someone, and the snake-like strikes allowed it to pick its prey very readily. The Vikings made sure to move in a continuous circle around the beast to keep it nervous and shifty. The dragon would dart around in place and fire its strange bolts of death out.

A strange burning smell reached my nose, and I realized that the creature was hitting its mark at least partially.

It was strange really. The Hideous Zippleback was acting with a furiousness that was not even present during the raids, yet I didn't feel any fear or any anger. Instead, I felt a bit sick. Injuries appeared on both sides: blood oozed from the dragon's skin like pus from a pimple and, off to the side, two Vikings coughed and sputtered in attempts to clear their lungs of the abominable gas.

"Move now!" Gobber's voice shouted out, cutting into my thoughts like an axe would flesh.

The Vikings collapsed on the creature that, unfortunately, anticipated the maneuver and with a gust of wind from a large, powerful flap of its wings launched into the air.

Gobber's voice rose in both volume and pitch as the husky man barked out chaotic orders.

Green claws clattered to the ground with a crash, and I could feel the ground lightly shake from the beast's mass. The dragon landed only a-stones-throw away from me, but its attention was elsewhere. Of course, right then, the dragon turned around, its tail flapping behind it like a club and hit an approaching Viking.

Yellow, narrowed eyes quickly scanned the area before resting on me. With a roar, the beast lunged toward me, but just as it took a step, it paused – something flashed behind its eyes like the midday sun behind the blinds of a window. The dragon blinked.

Of course, by stopping, the beast already waited too long. With a bellowed war cry, Gobber landed on the creatures back.

A screech of pure rage rumbled my bones like a punch from Snotlout. But the Vikings swarmed their prey and quickly held the thrashing beast down.

"Get a muzzle you fools!" Gobber called out as he wrestled with one of the heads. The other one was being held down by a huge, even by our standards, Viking and was barely able to quiver.

The Vikings were merciless in tying up the creature. They must have used more than my entire weight in chains and ropes. Naturally, the creature still struggled and fought, but the give of its restraints was something I would only be able to measure with my finger. Still, you had to give it credit; it wasn't one to give up.

Of course, Gobber viewed that as a personal insult and tightened the ropes even more, adding additional ones as necessary. Soon, the creature couldn't even wiggle a wing or twitch a claw.

"Seems a bit excessive," I said as I eyed the brown and gray blanket blanked that wrapped around the dragon.

"Got to show them absolute dominance." Gobber said checking the ropes one last time. "If there is any doubt the monsters will fight and chaff themselves against the restraints."

Gobber walked around the dragon with a satisfied strut, purposely pausing in the dragon's sight.

"Hey kid, good job stopping it in its tracks for us." A meaty hand hit me on the shoulder, and I turned around. The voice was from a Viking I barely knew. His name was Ironfeet, and he ignored me most of the time: his hair was black, and he was well-known for his massive beard; there was also a deep cut on his cheek that dripped blood generously down his face.

"Yeah, its like the beast was afraid of you," a female voice, still raspy and thick, said.

There was various mutterings of agreement.

Gobber laughed and said, "I guess they can see that fire in your eyes too, kid. The only other time I have ever seen a dragon pause like that was that same night."

Now that the dragon was out-of-the-way, we could clean its pen. There was an unspoken rule that everyone helped so the task could be completed as fast as possible since, quite frankly, none of us wanted to do it in the first place.

And after taking one step into the cell, I understood why the dragon was so angry. If I had to live in such deplorable conditions, I would not be all sun and rainbows either, that's for sure. Honestly, I wasn't sure the smell would ever get out of my clothes.

Thankfully, with everyone working, we finished the job quickly. The only luxury we afforded the beast was a bit of hay in one of the corners. Of course, once the task was complete we had to get the dragon back in its home.

With heaves and hoes the group lifted the bound beast up onto the cart, which sagged under the newfound weight. While the dragon wasn't moving, couldn't move really, its demeanor still pulsed through the ropes as if it were shouting. But surprisingly, the dragon wasn't as it was before; instead of pure undirected rage, the beast was limp in the rope's unforgivable grasp as if the Zippleback had given up.

We rolled the cart into the cage, bumping and skipping off small inconsistencies in the stone ground. Once situated, the dragon was dropped to the ground none too gently. The iron restraints snapped open and clanged to the ground; the sound bounced off the stone walls of the cage like a deformed, insanity-induced echo.

The dragon was still bound by the ropes but, due to the lack of iron restraints, had a bit of freedom to wiggle around, yet the beast didn't take advantage or try to escape. It did throw some very nasty glares at its captors though – I don't even want to think what Dad would do to me if he saw me with a glare like that.

Gobber took some more rope and wrapped a generous amount around the snout of the creature's two mouths and then removed the muzzles carefully. The creature jerked unexpectedly and caused Gobber to fall back on his butt.

Of course, the bindings stopped the dragon long before it would have reached the large man.

Throwing a look of superiority and disgust as if he were eying a bug, Gobber said, "Come on, let's get outta here."

The dragon was still trussed up like a holiday bird ready to braise over the fire, but the Vikings seemed uncaring. Gobber carried a bit of rope – still connected to the dragon – in his hand and without a look at the miserable and defeated creature moved the lever to snap the door close. It came crashing down with the final resolve of a man heading toward their death. The rope in Gobber's possession ran through the small flap in the door.

My check heated up a bit, and I looked over at Gobber who was lighting the end of his rope on fire.

"What are you doing?" I yelped.

Gobber glanced over at me. "Burning the ropes, it's the best way to release the monsters."

I watched as the line of ash that replaced the burning rope billowed and dispersed into the afternoon air. The fire disappeared under the flap in the door.

They were basically setting the dragon on fire.

Well, they had obviously done this before, and it was believed that dragon's skin made them immune to the heat of their fire, so the dragon was definitely going to survive.

Hopefully.

Wails and hisses of pain reached my ears through the door; the sounds of discomfort muffled by the imposing iron in-between us.

Disturbed, I watched the other Vikings move toward the next door in line: the would-be-home of the Terrible Terror.

Oh crap.

Eyes expanding in fright, my gaze darted around like a rabbit dodging a predator as I located my pack. It was sitting only a few dozen paces away. Marching toward it, making sure to keep my steps from appearing too hurried, I reached the container and peered inside. Small yellow eyes, looking like little candles in the dim light blinked rapidly and watched me with concern.

The only time I have seen a look like that was with very young children, and I vowed that I would not let this little animal be caught in harm's damning grasp.

"Alright, let's get this going." Gobber said and pulled the lever.

Of course, nothing came rushing out in a blaze of fire and flutter of wings. The Vikings, however, became more alert than anything with their gazes narrowed and minds trying to deceifer what was happening.

"Where in the hells is it?" Gobber asked somewhat frantically. "Quick, look around, it must have snuck out when the gate opened or something."

In a situation like this, they should have searched meticulously and logically, but that was far too much to ask. So, instead they scurried around like rats in all sorts of random directions.

"Check inside stuff, the little buggers like to hide from the light," a female voice called out. "But be careful, they'll strike you like a sea serpent if they catch you unaware."

Knowing that it was only a matter of time until someone asked if it were inside my pack, I quickly thought up a plan, a plan that would, hopefully, get the little fellow out of this mess in as little pain as possible.

I quickly tied off the top of the bag and called out. "I got the little monster guys, it's all good."

Everyone stopped in their tracks and looked over at me. Thankfully, they didn't demand any proof as the wiggling pack was more than enough evidence for them.

One of the Vikings, a buff and enormous female called Northwind, dropped her axe, and it hit the ground with a clang. "But how did you?" she asked, emphasizing the word 'you'.

I just shrugged my shoulders.

Gobber beamed brighter than the mid-morning sun.

"Alright, you heard the lad, the situation is under control."

Quickly, they cleaned the cage, and I approached with the pack, which was not wiggling, but rather shaking whether in anger or fright I was not sure.

Done with the respective tasks, I opened the pack and let the dragon scurry out. The little claws clattered on the ground, and the dragon dove into the fresh hay, disappearing from view. The door slammed shut. I clapped my hands and turned back to face the Vikings.

The look of shock was still there, but there was something else, as well.

One of them approached me with a smile and said, "You see how fast it ran away when you opened the pack? The darn thing was petrified of you. What did you do? Blow up its nest or something?"

Another nearby comrade added his thoughts, "Hey that's it! The beast probably got introduced to one of his," the Viking pointed at me, "toys and scarred it for life."

The Vikings chuckled at this, but it was different from my typical interactions. It wasn't directed so much at me, but rather included me. Does that make sense? It's hard to describe really, but it just wasn't as hurtful or aggressive as normal. And that was a good thing.

The crowd moved onto the next dragon, but I ignored them for a moment. Why was the Zippleback so aggressive and the Terrible Terror so passive? What was the difference between the two situations?

Such thoughts swirled around in my head like a confounded and erroneous cooking mixture.

The next dragon went relatively smooth, but, as with the Zippleback, it exploded out of the door as if it were a demon straight from the afterlife. Gobber was liberal with his use of rope and more blood marred the ground.

A Monstrous Nightmare was next. Thankfully, this one was quite simple. Well, simpler than the others. Instead of tying the creature up, Gobber had other plans.

The battle's length didn't reflect its intensity – fire and sweat rained down as the beast gave everyone all they could handle. Luckily, the Monstrous Nightmare glanced at me and paused. In its lapse, we took advantage.

Gobber smacked the creature on the head until it fell unconscious. When I asked why he didn't just do that for all of them, he told me that he wanted to keep the beasts as healthy as possible; no point training with damaged goods, but since Nightmares can set themselves on fire, restraining them was no easy task.

The next dragon was one I was quite curious about – the Deadly Nadder.

Again, the Vikings lined up in a battle stance, and Gobber pulled the lever. I felt my heart beating in the chest, thumping to some unknown rhythm. But the dragon didn't burst out. Instead Gobber, with a very annoyed and confused expression, approached the large iron door. My heart rate increased drastically.

As soon as the large Viking touched the door, a sound started to build. A deepened, enraged growl that shook the dust off the bones of the dead.

Gobber was not amused. "If you want to play that game, we can play that game." He waved his arm in a forward motion, and the rest of the Vikings moved toward him. I wisely remained near the back.

With a roar, they charged into the home.

The Nadder didn't last long. They dragged the creature, bound from head to wing to tail out so we could clean the cage. One of the Vikings kicked the dragon, hard, with his boot and laughed at the poor animal.

My hearted pined. There was nothing funny or amusing about abuse.

As I moved into the creature's home, I noticed Gobber was holding onto something small and metal. It was the figurine I made not too long ago.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"The dragon was protecting this as if its life depended on it. It was very strange." Gobber said as he watched me with a calculating stare.

Shrugging, I finally found my voice, "Guess the beast just knows good craftsmanship."

Gobber shook his head and chuckled.

There was no doubt in my mind that Gobber knew I made the little metal dragon; he knew my style too well to miss that tidbit.

"What was even weirder was this," he said gesturing at a point on the wall.

On the surface of stone, there was something I would have never imagined. Engraved there, by the looks of it, through claw, was an image of a well-defined circle with a crescent intersecting it on the upper right. It was a picture of the sun and the moon.

A Viking standing behind me laughed outrageously before quickly speaking, "Are you really suggesting that a dragon drew that? It's probably been there for years. It's pretty small and could have easily gone unnoticed."

"And the dragon just didn't want you to have the metal thingy. They're selfish, heartless scoundrels after all," the voice of Northwind supplemented.

"Yeah," Gobber lightly chuckled still visibly disturbed, "that makes sense." His voice was flat and hollow as if he were speaking to convince himself.

I didn't say a single word.

We moved to the last cage when my favorite people in the world arrived at the Kill Ring.

Gobber waved to the teens who watched from up above, obviously told previously that they were not to come down. And with how the dragons reacted I could understand Gobber's stance.

Still, the hated glare that Astrid was throwing at me made me squirm like a bird in a cage under intense inspection.

Ignoring them, I joined the Vikings at the last stop – the Monstrous Nightmare that I was well acquainted with; the one that Dad specifically singled out for whatever reason.

When the door opened this time the dragon burst out, but didn't go for the Vikings, instead my hair rushed against the created gusts as the beast flew up into the air well beyond our reach.

And it stayed there for a long time.

Gobber told us to wait it out, but after around twenty minutes elected to clean the cage with the dragon hanging off the roof of the web. The gaze of the Nightmare was shifting between three things, the roof, probably looking for some weakness, the Vikings, probably looking for an easy target, and me for whatever reason.

"Okay kid, you definitely did something to piss them off," one of the Vikings joyously said, "Look, its specifically, picking you out and trying to separate us."

And he was right, now that I thought about it. Whenever the dragon was not perched on the web and was flying around, it was doing so in a way to try to corral me away from the others. But why?

In fact, why were the dragons always pausing when they looked at me and singling me out? What was different about me compared to everyone else? The rest of the Vikings hooted and hollered about it thinking it hilarious. They thought the beasts were afraid of me, but one look in the dragons' eyes told a different story; I just wasn't sure what that story was.

"It's probably just looking for an easy snack." Snotlout dulcet tones rang down from the observation deck.

The Viking snorted, "Yeah, and I bet that Terror was thinking the same thing and look how that turned out."

Another, smaller Viking joined in, "Yup, anybody that can scare a dragon like that is a friend to me; don't worry kid, I got your back."

Snotlout's and Tuffnut's mouths practically touched the ground in shock.

"What about a Terror?" Snotlout choked out as if he had something caught in this throat.

Astrid's gaze was murderous.

Thankfully, we finally finished the task. All of the dragon's cages sparkled and no longer smelt as if death were a houseguest. Of course, the only thing left to do was to get the dragon down from up above. And I got to hand it to Gobber, the way he did so was quite ingenious. I never would have thought about tricking it down in a manner like that.

The door closed with thunder as the log locked its guest inside. The Vikings packed up and got ready to head to the mead hall, some dreading the detour they would have to take to the healers first, but I was not interested in accompanying them. Nope, I just grabbed my pack, marched up and out of the Kill Ring, ignored the questioning comments from my fellow teenagers and headed out of the village.

It's not that I was a loner or anything, but that took way longer than I was anticipating. The sun was already making steady progress, and I really wanted to go visit the Night Fury today.

And I had some thinking to do about what happened.

I jumped onto a log and launched myself over a small creek as I trekked through the woods.

Why did the dragons freeze as if they were a kid throwing a temper tantrum and I was their mother ready to reprehend them?

Then again, why was the Terror so docile in comparison?

And why was Gobber so confused about the dragon and the metal sculpture – was there doubt in the stubborn mind of his or was it something else?

Maybe it had to do with the thing that was happening with Astrid. My mentor obviously knew what was going on and even said it was affecting him.

I loathe questions with no answer in sight.

A rock barred the path in front of me, so I waded through the bushes to get around the barrier. The little lines of red I obtained far beneath my notice.

When I made it to the clearing, I was none too surprised to see the Night Fury resting on a rock. Somehow, through some unwritten script, I just knew it would be there. The triangular, black-scaled head rose and examined me as I approached.

In retrospect, maybe I should have given the creature more time. But I didn't and immediately approached the Night Fury. With a twitching ear, the dragon grew defensive as I marched toward it with purpose. As I got close, a gust made me lose my footing, and I fell down. Looking up, the Night Fury was standing on top of the rock with both wings drawn wide.

The glare of the green eyes was intense, and the creature held it for a few moments. Eventually, the dragon sagged, and its wings drooped to the ground. A strange sigh-like expulsion of air emanated from it, and the creature flicked its tail toward me and started to walk off.

I, of course, followed.

Curling up like a cat on a sun-drenched rock the Night Fury covered itself up nicely with its wings and let out a puff of smoke. I approached carefully and sat down a good distance away. Then, I started to scoot myself closer to the dragon, this time hoping the creature would not be as alarmed.

Both of those long floppy ears stood up on end, and the head of the dragon perked up as a red-feathered bird tweeting in a nearby tree drew its gaze. The dragon watched the bird take off in flight with a small smile nested on its features. Suddenly, the dragon's gaze snapped down to me. I was only a pace or so away. I waved tentatively.

The dragon's ears folded down onto its head, and its eyes flattened as it looked at me with annoyance. Rolling its eyes, the creature turned away from me, flipped its tail around and covered its face with its tailfins like a child playing peek-a-boo.

I scooted closer. The leather on the tailfin was stretched taut like an artists canvas and looked fascinating: I wondered if it would feel like leather, or if it would be softer due to its thin nature. The fin snapped close as the dragon glared at me, quite peeved. Quickly standing up, its wings opened, and the animal took off and landed up on the nearby cliff.

Sighing, I stood up and moved toward the stream to refresh myself. My reflection danced in the water distorting my image like a cracked mirror.

The Night Fury was obviously reserved so why was the Terror earlier so playful and friendly? Maybe it had something to do with the species? Night Furies did seem like they would be somewhat unsociable. Of course, that was pure speculation, and I had nothing to support it.

But then again, if the dragon didn't want to see me why did it keep coming back to the same place?

I grabbed a stick and started to doodle in the fresh dirt. The small pieces of soil and rock shifted from the stick like grass from a trampling animal.

Drawing was one of my least favorite pass times. Not because I disliked the activity, but because I used it as an avenue of distraction when I was confused or unsure of myself. So, drawing started to become correlated to bad moods and it often got me in trouble, like my sketch of the Night Fury that was drifting around the village in that book. Thankfully, the trouble from that had yet to come to fruition, but even if it did I was ready. There was no way Gobber could prove I drew it and besides if he didn't find it soon the chances of him correlating it to me sunk like a rock in the ocean.

My sketch was starting to come alive in front of me. The process reminded me a bit of my inventions actually – it was always cool to see something straight from your mind created in reality.

Just as I was about to finish, I felt a presence on my right side and my eyes opened widely in shock. Carefully glancing over, I noticed the Night Fury was sitting right next to me on its haunches; its gaze locked onto my stick as its eyes darted all over the place as it followed the sticks motions.

Clearing my throat I said, "See this here is me." I pointed at the little figure on the ground. "This is a flower," I pointed at something the little character was holding. "And this is a big, mean, ungrateful dragon that I'm trying to ward off. Since, you know, it just won't leave me alone," I said and pointed at the last Night-Fury-shaped object in the picture.

The dragon snorted loudly and distastefully at the picture and shifted behind me. I ignored the dragon for a second; I only had a few more touches and the drawing would be finished.

A tree snapping made me pause and suddenly a dragon leaped into my vision with a medium-sized branch in its mouth and started to dance and spin on the dirt. Small pieces of grasses, soil and rocks rocketed into the air like strange confetti as the dragon worked. So energetic was the Night Fury that it hit me on the head a couple of times with the end of its drawing tool. Of course, that could have been intentional.

Eventually, just when I was starting to get dizzy and wonder what the dragon was doing, it poked the stick into the ground, glanced at me with a smirk and leaped to the far side with elegant grace. It tossed its tool off to the side and didn't spare it another glance. Instead, wide green eyes locked with mine. The dragon sat and lightly gulped as it watched me with its ears standing tall and twitching. The creature's tail also swayed behind it calmly.

Slowly and deliberately, I stood up and started to walk. However, when I took my first step the dragon dropped down into an aggressive stance: its tail shot out directly behind it, ears dropped flat on its head, and its eyes narrowed. The dragon's gums rumbled as it growled, its white, pristine teeth alarmingly visible.

Anxious, I jumped back and the aggressiveness melted off the dragon like snow in the summer heat.

But when I tried to take the step again, the creature immediately repeated the process. Glancing down, I noticed a deep slash in the ground – the darker browns showing the damp and packed soil underneath the surface.

Ah, that was why. Just to confirm, I lightly set my foot down on the mark, and the dragon switched back into an aggressive position. I lifted my foot, but this time, moved it over the line and set it down.

The dragon, who had dropped the aggression the second I removed my foot off the line, blinked.

Taking this as a good sign, my feet weaved and waved through the maze of lines and dots that the dragon created as I navigated my way through. My arms waved about as I used them to contain my balance. Not long after, I reached the end of the journey and paused. There was something breathing right behind me, its breaths full and powerful – a creature synonymous with life. With a hesitant glance, I looked up, into the green eyes of the creature.

The Night Fury blinked.

I lifted my hand out to the creature and turned my head the other way so I wouldn't be watching it. And waited. If the creature wanted to touch, it would initiate the contact.

Right as I was sure I was going to experience something special a thunderous boom rang out in the clearing. The ground started to shake, and I opened my eyes. The Night Fury jumped away from me and just as I realized why I felt unbelievable pain as something slammed into me and rolled over my arm.

It felt as if a million bee stings abused my body, a bear body-slammed me, and a wolf gnawed on my arm. It was such a strange complication of sizes and intensities that my mind, too busy sending warning signals to my nerves, drew a blank in the moment of panic.

As soon as it came, it was over. And I was able to realize what happened.

I was buried under a pile of rocks and boulders. There was a bit of light peeking out through the rocks above me dotting me with spots of illumination as if I were wearing a discombobulated sweater.

A cry of pain rushed out of my mouth as I tried to move my arm, but a series of boulders rested on top of it and trapped it beneath them - thankfully, it was only stuck and not crushed. Small red cuts and black bruises riddled my body, and I felt worse than I could ever recall feeling. Of course, right as I thought that, my mind sent the signal of some new pain and I gasped out loud and whimpered pathetically. My upper left arm, the one not stuck, burned as if someone were holding an red-hot iron rod to it. My sleeve was in shambles and drenched red; I could actually see the blood oozing down my arm like water moved down a hill.

I was in big trouble. In fact, being how far away from town I was…

I tried to move, but when I did pain hit my body like a punch to the gut. And even if it was possible to ignore the pain, my right arm was still locked in place under the large boulder – there was no way, even on my best day, that moving it would have been an option.

It's crazy to think that in such a bleak and perilous situation, I didn't shed a single tear. My face was only wet due to the small wounds decorating my skin. No, I focused all my energy in finding a way to live.

Suddenly, light erupted into my view as one of the rocks disappeared from overhead. I blinked as a black-scaly head appeared in the newly created space.

I didn't say anything as the dragon worked. And, in remarkable speed, I was relatively uncovered. Stepping over me, so I was looking up at the creature's belly, the Night Fury bent down and in an amazing testament of strength, lifted the rock trapping my arm under it. The dragon put his shoulder into the boulder and pushed it over the crest of another rock without so much as a grunt and let it roll harmlessly down the other side.

Task done, the dragon jumped over me and looked down at the human it freed.

I was speechless – partly due to pain and adrenaline and partly due to what just transpired. However, my hand was entirely red as if it were soaked through to the bone from the blood that was pouring out of my arm and I, in all my infinite wisdom, forgot to pack first aid supplies in my pack.

There was no way I could make it to Berk; I would bleed out long before.

I was going to die.

I laughed, spitting up just a bit of blood, and looked at my savior. Eventually I said, "Thanks, but I'm afraid I don't have tough skin like you," I lifted my bloody arm, wincing all the while, and showed it to the dragon.

My vision blurred and started to blacken.

The dragon, with a narrowed intense glare moved its nose to only a hairs distance from my arm and started to sniff. The creature examined me with its ears flattened down on its head and its wings and tail taunt like a stretched rope.

Everything went black as I closed my eyes and sent a quick prayer to Dad. I steadied my sporadic breathing and accepted the inevitable – no more air rushed in through my mouth and no more left it, it was now a closed system.

Searing pain and I mean sawing, grinding pain flashed through my arm like a strike of lightning.

I gasped out loud and snapped my eyes open.

The Night Fury licked my arm again, its light red tongue made crimson by my blood.

Pain. Pure mind-numbing pain melted through my arm like a rusted sword digging into it, and I wished, more so than anything, for it to just end. I lifted my other arm to try to stop the Night Fury, but it quickly used one of its front legs to pin me down.

It licked my arm again.

"Please," I shrieked and kicked my feet, "no more."

A look of discomfort flashed behind the Night Fury's green eyes, but it continued in its mission.

I only wished the creature would have let me die before eating me.

The dragon licked its chops and started again. The creatures tongue was rough, irritating, and it scratched the inflamed nerves like the nails of a scorned, petty women.

Then, just as suddenly as it started, it stopped.

I laid there with the dragon's claws still holding my body down onto the cold ground; I gasped and sputtered pitifully under its embrace.

My breathing came back under control, and I glanced at my arm. It was rubbed raw and red, but the vicious wound that went from my elbow to my shoulder was sealed shut as if fire burned it.

The pain was still there, not as intense, but it could have been for how numb my brain felt. The dragon just saved my life.

Eventually, the Night Fury removed its leg from me and lifted it to its mouth. With its eyes closed, the dragon licked the red substance off of its claws with a contented expression on its face.

"You better not like what you taste dragon," I said hoarsely. "It was only a sample, I'm too ripe for consumption."

I sat up as the dragon opened its eyes and watched me with a smirk on his face. The sudden motion of sitting made me lightheaded because of the blood loss, but I would be okay. Most of the other cuts had already scabbed over.

Subconsciously, I reached out to pat the dragon on the head. When I realized what I was doing I froze; my hand hovered right above the creatures nose. The dragon watched it with a crossed-eyed green gaze and hesitated only a second before closing its eyes and initiating contact.

"Thanks," I coughed out, "Thanks Toothless."

I don't know why I called the dragon that. It was one of those things that you do, can't explain, but never want to take back.

The dragon, Toothless, wrinkled his nose before quickly darting off and out of view.

I knew the dragon was still there watching me, making sure I didn't collapse again. It was an interesting feeling, instinct-like, but, while I couldn't hear him, see him, or even sense him, I knew he was there.

I managed to stand and stabilize my breathing. It was going to be a long trip back to Berk, but I didn't care.

If you told me a week ago that I would have to add another person to the list, I would have laughed. After all, only four names embellished it; the names of the four people to save my life.

And, if you told me it would be a dragon's name I would add: I would have called you delusional and excessively dumb as there was no way that could ever happen.

Well, I would have been wrong.


	10. Darkness is Mourning the Morning

**Lightning Always Strikes Twice**

* * *

Chapter 8: Darkness is Mourning the Morning

_"Stars, hide your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires."_

* * *

Water hit the dock with light periodic thumps. It was early morning – not too early of course, and I was starting the day with a smile on my face. I was also lightly limping due to my trials the day before. And just like the last few days, I entered the warehouse to pick up the food to feed the dragons at the Kill Ring.

Of course, this time, unlike the others, there were no baskets of blue, luscious Icelandic Cod resting haphazardly in the corner as if no one cared of their existence.

"Uh," I intelligently stated with one eye closed. "Hey, where are the baskets of fish?" I called out into the dark and damp storehouse.

The shelves near me rumbled as a man roared out in frustration. Near the back wall, a plethora of supplies, from boxes to baskets to pieces of large cloth sails, dropped to the ground as if someone knocked out the supports. The resulting bangs, clashes, and splats made me cringe as if something struck me.

I tentatively approached the pile, tiptoeing carefully to avoid waking the sleeping beast within.

Suddenly, mounds of goods erupted from the pile like lava from a volcano and the head of a green-eyed, browned-bearded Viking appeared in its wake.

"Didn't get around to fixing up the food this mornin'." Boregut growled out as he eyed the pile he was half-submerged in as if it were a mortal enemy. "Nah, instead I have to deal with all this crap. Why Stoick wants us to keep so much fish oil is anyone's guess – it's not like the stuff even burns that well, or has any real use. More worthless than the underpants of a troll if yeah ask me."

The man's voice became more encrusted and rough as he spoke. It reminded me of the way a wolf's growl developed: at first it was cautionary and curious and then it ended with pure ferocity and aggression.

"Just go grab some stuff for the beasts. I don't got the time now." Boregut said through clenched teeth before diving back into the heap.

I asked the quivering jumble, "Uh, from where?"

It was amazing just how intimidating a pile of random things could be. Honestly, the way Boregut was cursing and sputtering at everything, I briefly wondered if he would consider taking it out on me.

"From where? Where do you think, yeah idiot!" A voice from somewhere inside the mess thundered out.

Deciding not to play with the fates anymore today, especially with how they were treating me recently, I quickly retreated back to the entrance of the warehouse.

Naturally, I didn't know where this mystical 'where' was, but I figured that finding it wouldn't be too hard. And it really wasn't. Well, finding edible materials were not – the Icelandic Cod was suspiciously missing – and as the hoard was shaking like a monster about to consume a child, I decided to throw some stuff in a basket and get out of there.

Slimy, stinky fish of all shapes and colors, some crab and some stripped eel, were just a sample of what I gathered.

It's not as if dragons were picky eaters.

The village was a bit different now that a few days had passed since Dad left, with the others, to hunt. Unease was starting to fall on the town like a thick, invisible fog that permeated everything. It was very rare that there was a dragon raid on back-to-back nights, but it was much less rare to see two in one week. They seemed to fall in pairs like that, sometimes even triplets, but then, just as abruptly as the strike of snake, they would vanish and not occur for a month or two. It was all very strange.

And well, before a few nights ago, the last dragon raid was two months previous. We were due for another. And with Dad gone with many of the fighters of the village, it was a race against the clock.

Some would call Dad foolish for rushing out as he did when another dragon attack was inevitable. But that was Dad for you; he believed in all his heart that he would stop them before it became a problem. It's just the way he was.

The Kill Ring was unchanged from the previous day, well, ignoring the new battle scars from the early tribulations that was, but the uneventful air was…actually, it was completely different from the other days.

It was tense as if the master of the forge just approached the apprentices and his or her gaze was manifesting itself on every little detail trying to find the slightest error to criticize.

Different, it was, from the ambience of the village – it felt more poisoned and sick.

And that made me very nervous in ways I cannot put onto paper.

"So, I decided to name you." I said in front of the first door – the same one I usually started on, the left most Monstrous Nightmare.

I rubbed my chin as I kicked over the basket of fish, and a myriad of colors poured out of like a rainbow out of a waterfall. The slopping sounds rang out in a strange contrast to the silence. In fact, the only sense more startling was the harsh smell emanating from the fish.

An idea formed in my mind and a smirk mirrored on my face.

"Now what would one name a big, powerful, dangerous dragon such as you?" I said with an air of mischief riding my words like a bird riding a wind stream.

I sniggered and pushed some food into the cage.

"How about Cheeks for the scar on your face? After all, if I heard that name bellowed out in blood-thirsty rage, my bones would freeze as I shivered in fright," I said with a wacky, lopsided grin as I waved my arms erratically.

A roar, not a little pipsqueak of a roar, but a full-fledged, from the throat, roar reverberated around the Kill Ring.

It was, especially when accounting past experience, just a tad bit unexpected.

"It was just a joke." I said, half serious, half anxious and started to, slowly, back up from the still upset dragon.

Suddenly, something flew out from underneath the flap and launched toward me. I tried to dodge it, but the darn thing flew like a rock out of a catapult.

The item in question smacked me on the face with a slap, and knocked me to the ground with force. An undignified yip left my lips as the ground rushed forward to greet me.

Man, the dragon must really not like that name.

Shaking my head rapidly like a dog trying to dry its fur, I sat up and try to regain my bearings. When I looked over to see the offending object, I wasn't too surprised by what I found. A long, yellow, and black body of a Yellow Smoked Eel met my quizzical gaze.

Wow, throwing food at me now. My service wasn't _that_ bad.

I picked up the eel and shock my head; the eel waved back and forth in my grip like a flag in the wind. The dragon reacted. It was most definitely progress, but…wait, the only way the dragon could have responded as such was if it could understand me. How else would it have reacted to the name?

"If you can comprehend me tap your left claw on the wall three times." I said in a hurry as I approached Cheeks.

Silence as crisp and clear as the forest before a dragon raid answered my excited inquiry.

I tried a few more tactics to the get the dragons to counter my words or actions, but nothing worked.

Grumbling, I headed toward the next dragon, head drooping like an upset and scorned child, and mumbled under my breath as I walked away, "You're name is definitely still Cheeks."

The dragon didn't do anything at all.

So what in the world was different about the other time? Why was this so confusing?

I brought my left arm up to my chin to subconsciously rub an itch and winced hard, letting out a small meow of pain – the wound from the previous day rearing its ugly and undesirable head.

Black and brown met my gaze as I stared unintelligently into the second dragon's door like a stupendous fool. My eyelids closed, and my chest heaved up and down as I took in air and then let it rush out of my body like water in a river.

"How are you doing today?" I asked the dragon in front of me. This was the creature that drew the picture of the moon and the sun; well, I guess that other Viking could be correct, and the picture could be old residue left over by someone, but there was something, an intuitive feeling I had that this dragon was the perpetrator behind the symbol. No, the question wasn't if the creature made it; the question was why the dragon made it.

Of course, no barks or roars answered my question.

As I worked to feed the dragon, I spoke to it. The eel was still draped over my shoulder like some strange scarf. "So what should I name you? You know you remind me a bit of Astrid – both of you seem to have this shell that is protecting the real you underneath. You just need someone to crack it and help you to freedom."

A bright smile rose up onto my features like the morning sun in the sky. "Liberation of the mind and personality is always best when it's accompanied by companionship. Of course, there is no way Astrid would ever let me near her, much less help her. No, instead, she seems quite content to treat me like-"

I paused as two birds flew up above the web of the Kill Ring, drifting and darting through the air as if engaged in some exquisite dance. Their song and chirps of joy felt like laughter in the air and help healed in ways that medicine was unable to.

"-Dirtsa, that's your name. Not very elegant but it just feels right. I thought about just Dirts, but the 'a' makes it sound a bit more refined."

I finished my task without another word.

Instead of moving onto the next dragon, my hand drifted to my back and gripped something resting there – held into place by little straps.

The iron was smooth to the touch – cold, unlike the searing heat that meshed and molded it into the shape it currently wore. It wasn't the same one as before – Gobber still possessed that one.

I set the object down on the ground carefully, like a wolf with her cub, and stepped back to grip the tool to push the little figurine into the cage but stopped at the last second.

Not even sure what I was doing, I dropped the large pole - it clattered to the ground and bounced lightly – and picked up the shaped iron. With trembling hands, my feet clattered against the ground cautiously, making almost no sound as I approached the iron door. I crouched down in front of the imposing prison, and my knees grew cold from the stone floor. Tentatively, I reached out and pushed open the flap with my right arm. The flap squeaked in a loud manner that shattered the silence of the arena like the whines of a baby in the middle of a crisp night.

Ignoring the wince of pain that shot through my left arm, I lifted the statue in my left hand and tried to put it into the cage. However, I could only get the tip of it under the flap when the pain become too much to bare – my arm was just too sore.

However, I needed not worry. The tip was enough, and the maw of the dragon closed over the end that just barely protruded into Dirtsa's cage. With absolutely careful precision, the Deadly Nadder took the little iron dragon out of my hands.

No monster could ever be that gentle.

"I couldn't get the other one, but I thought that-" I didn't know what else to say. It was just one of those things that didn't need any words.

I moved to the next dragon with a boisterous grin, the pain and tenderness in my arm long forgotten.

The third dragon was also a Monstrous Nightmare and the one that the winner of the dragon training class would engage with in mortal combat. Only one name felt appropriate. I dubbed the dragon Destiny and finished my duties there.

As I walked to the next dragon – the Gronckle – I noticed the eel that was still swaying on my shoulder like a leaf in the wind. With a roll of my eyes, I haphazardly tossed the eel back onto the basket and marched forward to the next dragon.

Nothing particular exciting happened. Well, at least until I tried to fed the creature. A whine, a horrified whine, reached my ears and made my blood run cold.

Confused, I turned toward the Gronckle that was loudly whimpering behind the iron door.

What the heck?

I sheepishly approached, the pinning noises calling to the deepest recesses of my mind as if the creature were using some interracial plea for help.

"Are you okay?" I asked carefully.

The sniveling noticeably increased.

Without thinking, without even contemplating that I was doing it, I lifted the lever that would allow the flap to extend all the way – after all, it's not as if a Gronckle could fit through.

The cold returned to my knees, and I used my body to lift the flap so I could see inside.

Dark shadows occupied the space like dirt in a forest, yet there was something in the back moving, the outlines of its shadow shivering in fright like a scared child lost in the forest at midnight.

My eyes ran all over the inside of the cell trying to find something that was out-of-place, something that would be causing the dragon to react this way. Eventually, my eyes came to rest on a black and yellow stripped snake-like piece of food. The eel.

Could it be?

I reached out and grabbed the stripped marine creature in my hand, and the wailing increased audibly. With haste, I backed out of the cell and tossed the eel away. It splatted on the ground and rolled over one or two times.

The silence of the Kill Ring mostly returned, but the breathing of the Gronckle was still apparent sounding as if the creature had run an exhausting race of physical exertion.

How queer. So, dragons didn't like eels. Not that I really blamed them, as I was not fond of the taste either but such a strong reaction. Maybe I could use that to my advantage.

I was so caught up in my discovery that I almost forgot to name the creature. However as I strolled to the next client, I called out over my shoulder, "Thanks, Grumps."

With the next dragon, I opted for an experiment. I pushed the head of the eel through the flap of the Terrible Terror's home and said, "Eating time little guy."

A squeal of both rage and horror answered my declaration, and, suddenly, my arm grew very hot. I dropped the eel and scampered back in surprise. After a moment, in which nothing else exciting happened, I quickly leaned forward and yanked the eel out of the creature's home.

The face of the eel was completely charred black as if something had melted it off. Not that there was a lot of options as to the culprit of such an event.

Well, that settled it. Dragons really did not like eels. Bugger proved it for me.

I thought the name was perfect – after all, it still owed me for the jerky it took.

Nothing particularly fascinating happened on the last trip. I named the dragon – Twins – and quickly finished my task.

I stepped to the middle of the Kill Ring and from left to right rattled off: Cheeks, Dirtsa, Destiny, Grumps, Bugger, and Twins were their names respectively. Not the best naming job ever, but really I doubt anyone could truly criticize me – it's not as if Vikings had a lot of expertise in the art of naming dragons. I supposed I could have given them names such as Ironwing and Bloodclaw but to do so would feel so plebeian.

It just felt right the way it was. The naming that is. There was something here with these dragons, it was personal more than just a passing moment. They deserved the right to be called something other than beast A, B and C. Maybe it was fate, I dunno-

Suddenly, as if I were speaking out loud a, deep and harsh voice – one that rattled my very soul – responded to my thoughts, "There is no fate, but what we make for ourselves."

The voice came from somewhere to the left.

"Hello!" I called out with a bit of apprehensive.

Nothing answered me. Did I just imagine it? But, it sounded so real.

"Is anyone there?" I asked, almost dreading the answer.

Suddenly, the face of a Viking appeared over the edge of the Kill Ring, and I let out a breath of relief. I wasn't completely crazy then.

The Viking said in a loud commanding voice, "What in the heck are you yapping about?"

The hostility in his voice started me, but it didn't seem directed my way. "Nothing…nothing at all," I called out loudly before tampering off quietly at the end.

"Well you should get away from those dragons; they'll infect you with their stench and draw other beasties to you like moths to a flame."

I nodded to the man and decided to heed his advice. As the Kill Ring faded behind me, I just couldn't shake off the apprehensive feeling. It took me a minute to realize why. And when I did, I completely froze in place.

The disembodied voice and the voice of the raspy Viking didn't match.

So, just like in days and years past, the woods became my sanctuary as I mused over what happened. There was this special place in the woods: the trees created a dome and a small stream trickled through it with the beautiful and tranquil sounds of water hitting rocks. But best of all was the grass; it was incredibly, unbelievable soft as if the Gods themselves used it as a bed.

That was the area I was heading for. But just as I jumped onto a fallen log, a thud reached my ears over the standard ambience of the woods. Curious, I approached the sound.

"Why couldn't he just be normal?" an angelic voice whispered into the wind, the volume barely perceptible in the forest.

Carefully wounding my way around the trees like a predator sneaking up on prey, the image of a person standing and huffing came into view through the needles and branches of the trees.

It was Astrid.

With a roar, the blond-haired Viking hurled her axe. The blade soared through the air with deadly grace and struck the truck of a tree with a powerful crack as the axe embed itself deeply in its wooden target.

"If he was just normal, then I could-"

Interrupting herself, Astrid gripped her axe and yanked it out of the tree with a small bellow of fury.

She eyed the axe longingly and fingered the sharp edge, carefully. Suddenly, she sniffled and sunk to her knees.

"Odin, whatever I did to deserve this, I'm sorry," Astrid said; her voice blurred as she lightly sobbed.

Then, as if a dam broke, Astrid's axe fell to the dirt with a soft thump and the young female held her head in her hands. Her hair bobbed as the young women cried as if her world had come to an end.

I thought about going out to comfort her, but I really didn't want a splitting headache from her axe. And besides, it would just make it worse in the long run. Right? Still, my heart twisted and throbbed in ways that I swore it never would again.

My foot stepped off the log, and I realized I was subconsciously heading out to greet her. Maybe she could cast of that shell and just be the same kid she was? There was more to life than fighting, and I wanted to show her that. She deserved that.

I took another step.

Astrid's wailing quieted the forest down as the residents observed the mourning human.

The tears also brought something else.

I stopped dead in my tracks, still well out of sight of Astrid. Not because of anything to do with the blue-eyed Viking, but because something was standing behind me. My eyes widened in pure shock as I watched my newfound acquaintance.

There, standing next to me, was a black and sleek dragon. His long ears were flattened on his head as he watched Astrid with narrowed green eyes. Still, beneath the curiosity was a hostile demeanor reminding me of our first fateful meeting.

"Toothless" I mouthed out at the dragon, no sound actually coming from my lips.

The dragon's gaze shifted to me and the creature blinked, the anger melting off of him instantly. He rolled his eyes and focused his attention back on the young women in the clearing.

"Hey Astrid!" A voice called out through the woods. If I were to guess, I would say it was Fishlegs's harmonious tones.

Astrid quickly jumped up to her feet tears spraying from her face. She, hurryingly, wiped her face with her bracers and grabbed her axe with a panicky expression on her face.

Toothless let out a snort of contempt and his gaze turned extremely hostile. Honestly, for a second, I thought that he would attack her. His posture was poised as if to jump out and strike, and his white teeth were visible beneath his gums.

"Astrid," Fishlegs said as he burst through the woods and landed in the clearing.

Astrid's face was dry, and she eyed the large Viking with a calm expression. She nodded to Fishlegs and started to walk back to the village without a word.

The large burly teenage vociferously sighed at his female friend and joined her as she walked out of my sight. "Gobber is looking for you. Did a troll eat your brain and make you forget? Today we-" Fishlegs' voice became muddled in the reinvigorated sounds of the forest.

Toothless savagely spit at the ground and threw one last livid glare at the two. The dragon then flipped his wings around and disappeared from my side with a blast of air.

Shaking my head back and forth at the dragon's antics, I stepped out into the clearing.

Right in the middle was a dark, damp spot in the soil as if it drizzled in just this one spot.

Astrid was still there inside – the real Astrid, the one that I remembered as a kid. The loving and curious friend that didn't take crap from anyone yet cared and comforted all.

I would help Astrid even if it meant she hated me forever for my meddling. I would get her to being her again, and that was a promise.

Standing with convection, I turned my gaze skyward to the midday sun twinkling in the air.

Not now, of course, she was with her peers and Gobber and that was the absolute worst time to attempt a revolution with her mind. But the next time I caught her alone, I would definitely confront her about it. If she could demand and yell things at me, then I would do the same back to her.

With one last glance at the direction Astrid and Fishlegs left, I turned and started to head through the woods.

It was amazing how fast I caught up to Toothless. I was just walking through the woods when suddenly a black wing shot out in front of me and stopped my progress. Startled, my gaze quickly snapped to the face of the Night Fury. His green eyes were wide and full of life yet contented an edge I was unsure of. With a bob of his head, Toothless pointed toward something in a small clearing up ahead.

Right there, between the trees, was a mother fox with two kits. The problem was: one of the little, fluffy, orange foxes wasn't moving. Its big bushy tail laid lifelessly on the ground as if abandoned and forgotten. The other youngling was investigating its brother/sister with its nose and a confused expression on its face. It turned towards its mother with a questioning glare – the idea that it would never hear its sibling again an impossibility far beyond comprehension. However, the mother's hollowed and shocked mind only had space for one thing at that cruel moment. She ignored the probing glance from her child and watched, with watery eyes, the fur of her other young, the fur that was only moving because of the light breeze.

Something grabbed the back of my shirt and dragged me away from the scene. I yelped out loud and was quickly deposited on the ground.

Toothless stepped over my prone form and walked away with his wings and ears drooping. There was a line of dirt forming in his wake as his tail dragged on the ground.

I quickly jumped up and ran after the retreating dragon.

"What was the difference between the foxes and Astrid?" I said with a bit of accusation lacing my tone. "You were furious when Astrid was crying and now you're sad at the foxes grieving. Do you just hate people or-"

Toothless smacked me on the side of my head with his tail. With an exclamation of pain, I rubbed my head and shot an angry look at the dragon. He just rolled his eyes and continued toward his destination.

For a moment, I considered letting the dragon walk off by himself, but quickly retracted the idea and scampered after him.

As the two of us got deeper into the woods, Toothless's mood reformed back into a joyful disposition. His ears perked back up and he ceased dragging his tail.

Eventually, we came to a cliffside overlooking the ocean. The waves crashed against the bank and sounded like light periodic thunder rolling in the distance. Salt and evergreen scents mixed into the air and created a blend that was far from unpleasant; it was simply natural.

The cliff itself was something else entirely. Harsh, craggy rocks jutted out like weapons from a slain dragon and created a labyrinth-like surface that was not unlike many of the cliffs around here. The difference was where the other cliffs were smoothed out by the waves repeated assault, here the bottom of the cliff was as disfigured as the top. As to why, no one knew. The cliffs were known as the Insanities' Edge, a name I thought was aptly given.

I paused on the boundary of death and watched the endless sea with all its beautiful blues and whites. Sometimes even greens would appear in the water and create a rich palette of colors on the horizon.

Toothless, on the other hand – claw, didn't stop walking and let himself plummet right off the edge of the cliff.

A surprised yelp of dismay erupted from my lips, and I quickly dropped to my knees to look over the edge.

But, in all my infinite wisdom, I forgot one very critical thing: Toothless was a dragon and dragons have wings.

A black shape blasted up into the air, twisting and twirling like a vortex. For the next hour or so I just watched the dragon fly through the air. There were loops, swirls, harrowing dives, breathtaking glides and extraordinary tricks. Never before had I seen flight like that. Even hawks in their great aerial arsenal didn't have such mastery of the air.

Toothless didn't just belong up there – he was basically one with the skies.

"You love flying, don't you?" I asked the dragon as he swooped close.

He didn't respond to my question and continued in his spectacular display of skill.

I wasn't sure why Toothless was hanging around instead of flying off. It was almost as if the dragon were showing off and getting some perverse pleasure in doing something he knew was impossible for me. Then again, Toothless had never been this open with me; he was still hesitant – not nervous – but hesitant as if he were trying to decide if he was making a grievous error.

Maybe, after saving my life the dragon felt, in some ironic way, responsible for me. Were they even capable of that type of emotion? My years of upbringing wanted me to answer with a reverberating and firm 'no', but my gut and heart were not quite so sure.

"So why don't you fly more? Whenever I see you, you're always on the ground. But with the way you grace the sky it's obvious most of the time you're airborne." I asked the dragon that was hovering nearby watching me. Of course, what was impressive was that Toothless was hovering upside down, his wings flapping lightly to keep his attitude. His green eyes sparkled with so much cheerfulness that it felt contagious.

Instead of answering – not that I expected him to – Toothless simply swooped back in the air and started a second round of aerial acrobatics.

I'm not sure how long I stayed there. It all became a blur, but I didn't care. It was so relaxing just watching without a worry in the world, feeling the wind rush through my hair – a peace that was often missing from my life.

It wasn't until the ocean started to reflect the oranges and reds of the glistening and flourishing sunset that Toothless landed next to me.

We sat there, the two of use, wordless, expressionless, and watched the progression of the sunset. The colors danced and darted across the sky like a show from the gods. Such mystical and splendor blessed our eyes – it was almost as if some unknown language was whispering in the air telling of all the world's secrets. At that moment, for the first time, I would have sworn I could understand the words.

Nether of us did anything for a long time. Even once the sunset passed, and darkness replaced the light show we calmly sat there and enjoyed each other's company.

Eventually, Toothless stood up and stretched out his wings, tail and feet. He actually looked very similar to a cat right then with the way he would arch his back and let loose a satisfied puff of air.

It was in that picturesque moment that everything changed. Green eyes snapped up to the sky, and a thick, threatening growl started to build in Toothless' throat.

Confused, I followed his gaze and looked up into the darkness of the night.

At first I couldn't see it, my eyes obviously not as good as my comrades, but the longer I looked, the more it became apparent. Dark shapes blotted out the stars as if something were flying across it. Not just a few, but dozens, maybe even hundreds of winged creatures were sneaking through night's blanket.

Sneaking right toward Berk.

Alarmed, I turned around only to be knocked down on my butt by a gust of air. Where Toothless once stood, was nothing. And with the dragon's dark scales I had no way of knowing if Toothless was only a dozen feet away or nowhere in the vicinity.

I tried to run back to town to warm someone, anyone, but my lingering injuries quickly crippled my attempt and I fell to the ground and moaned in pain. There was no way, even if I were in the best of health that I would beat them to Berk. Even so, I was a Viking, and I would try. I forced myself to stand.

However, when I heard an ear-splitting and crescendoing screech in the distance, I collapsed down onto my knees in horrified disbelief and stared at the horizon, toward my village, as a blue blast appeared just over the top of the trees. I couldn't see if it hit something, but Night Furies never missed.

Toothless was attacking Berk.


	11. History Begins with Black Wings

**Lightning Always Strikes Twice**

* * *

Chapter 9: History Begins with Black Wings

_"I like the dreams of the future better than the history of the past"_

* * *

_Snotlout's nose crumpled like a piece of wet paper, and a sickening crack rang through the cramped, crowded room._

_The room contained a half-dozen young children who bickered and fought with one another. Green eyes were better than blue eyes; axes were better than swords and so forth._

_Of course, there was a shepherd trying to herd the wolf-like sheep, and she advanced, not on the injured child, but on a small, blond-haired, blue-eyed, female child._

_"Astrid!" the voice, many octaves lower than the others, shouted. "Why did you punch Snotlout?" With a wave of her large, burly arms, the female instructor gestured to the red-faced boy. Red-faced, not just because of the blood, but also because of the pure embarrassment the kid felt course through his body like venom from a spider._

_With a little shrug of her shoulders, Astrid said, "He was making fun of Hiccup and deserved it. It's not like I hit him that hard, so no problem." She flashed a smile at the much larger women._

_A vociferous sigh came into existence, and Astrid's long hair was lightly pushed back from the breath._

_"And you don't see anything wrong with that young lady?" the voice was no longer shouting; instead it was calculating and cold – the voice that meant the time to joke was long gone._

_Kids hated that more than anything._

_Astrid froze like water in winter and eyed the women with just a hint of apprehension behind her eyes. "He's fine," Astrid said carefully as she gestured at the glaring male with a flick of her head, "so no problem."_

_"No problem!" The women's voice reached a shrill screeching sound like the dying voice of a ghoul in a graveyard. "Of course there is a problem!"_

_The women turned on her heel, faced me, and said, with spit flying from her mouth, "Why didn't you hit him Hiccup?! You're the one that should have, not her."_

_I gulped and faced the women as she headed right for me. Each of her steps shook the entire hut, causing dust to fall, and spiders to scuttle away and flee in terror._

_"Look," I said at the figure towering over me, "I can't tell Astrid what to do, she wouldn't listen."_

_"And why did you not defend your own honor?" the women asked._

_I laughed, a cheap high-pitched laugh, "Astrid can do it better than I ever could, and no point wasting my energy when she will."_

_"Wait," Astrid said slowly and her eyes narrowed, "Are you saying you took advantage of me Hiccup."_

_"No, I just counted on you." I said smoothly and her rage melted away like the wick of a candle._

_She nodded at me with a queer little smile on her face._

_"Guys, can we please get back to the story! I wanna hear more about Freya, she's like plus five cool." Fishlegs voice asked from somewhere behind me._

It was freezing and dark outside. And instead of doing something, anything productive, I was kneeling on the grass and staring at a tree. While the bark was amazing in all of its chaotic design, such details went unseen by my eyes.

Shock was an amazing thing – a terrifying thing. It makes you do follies that befuddle the fools. Honestly, I wasn't sure how long I sat there in the damp grass and reflected over my past. My past was always a sensitive aspect of my life so going over it in my head at a time when I should have acted made almost no sense. In fact, it made so little sense that I wondered if it were some premonition from the gods.

The dragon raid was, if the sounds and lights in the sky were anything to go by, over. Instead, the night became absolute – darkness invaded and devoured the homes and hopes of the light. It wasn't sad, or scary even, just normal.

With a massive flurry of head shaking, I managed to clear my mind enough to get a grasp on reality. I stood up, and that's when everything really came crashing down.

The flapping of wings was easily discernible in the quiet night air.

Of course, the black scales made it almost impossible for me to see the creature until he was upon me.

And when Toothless did land in front of me, my eyes widened to an impossible size and I stared in horror at the dragon in front of me.

He was different – more hostile. Fear, power and domination radiated off of him in a way that would cower Dad and make Gobber scamper away in fright.

But it wasn't the dragon's demeanor, or the growl in his throat, that made me fear the coming minutes and dread the coming days.

Toothless's teeth were fully extended and shaking due to his rumbling gums. It was difficult to see in the darkness, but the crimson stains that adorned them could still be made out.

But even the blood was far from my optimal concern. No, that belonged to something dangling from the Night Fury's mouth. A piece of cloth was in-between his teeth caught like a climbers rope between two rocks. And attached to the powerfully woven cloth was a metal weapon that dangled precariously. An axe engraved with runes and symbols.

All Viking weapons were like that. We craved intricate designs and meanings into our weapons, our companions, to give us fortitude and good luck in the face of battle. At least, that's what we claimed. Personally, while I did understand the concept, I think most Vikings just thought they looked cool.

But this axe, this reddened, bloodstained axe could only ever belong to one Viking.

It was her mothers before her, and she took care of it religiously – in a way, it was the friend that replaced me. And I would never forget that.

"That's Astrid's axe, she goes everywhere with it." I said and took a step backward.

Toothless narrowed his eyes and took a step toward me, the axe in question swinging back and forth.

Just like that Gronckle's eye.

"No…no it…it cannot be." My voice was crackling up as I processed the information.

In my haste to retreat, I fell down on my butt with a light yelp of surprise. Toothless, looking like some empowered, enraged monarch stepped over me and glared down at my quivering form.

Blood from his maw dripped down and landed on me with a light splat.

"You're lying, faking, there is no way. You wouldn't do that."

But the dragon's eyes told a different story. In those green orbs was a horrifying tale; a tale that I wanted nothing to do with.

I rolled away and scampered to my feet. The words bellowed out of me like rage from a scorned parent or a betrayed friend, "YOU MONSTER!"

Toothless glared at me and crouched down.

In one of my brightest moments, I charged the dragon. Surprisingly, there was not a single part of my soul that wanted the creature in front of me to die. No, I simply wanted him to feel the same pain that constricted my heart like a snake.

The skirmish, if you could even call it that, was over in about two seconds and I found myself pinned under Toothless's claw.

My body twisted and wiggled, but there was no leeway in the dragon's grip. Instead, the beast just watched with narrowed green eyes and flattened ears.

The minutes passed; I soon grew tired of hitting the dragon's paw holding me down and simply rested there taking relatively, the pressure from Toothless restricting my movement, deep breaths.

"What's the matter, too weak in the stomach to kill me?" I sneered up at the face watching me. "You didn't seem to have any problem using Astrid's bones to clean your teeth. SO WHY NOT MINE!"

For the first time since Toothless came back, I saw a bit of my friend. Just a taste, the orange of the sky before the ascending sun, but it was there nonetheless.

The idea that Toothless was still mentally there, and some monstrous beast hadn't replaced him made it much, much worse.

"I HATE YOU!" I screamed.

Green eyes rolled in an exaggerated, slow circle.

My struggles increased ten-fold and tried to push the black winged dragon off me. But even using the ground as leverage, I was able to get exactly nowhere. The dragon was far too heavy even with his sleek and aerodynamic body.

Still, that didn't mean I would give up; for the next hour or so I tried everything I could think of, and some things that I couldn't, to get away from the dragon's ironclad grip.

In response to the wiggling worm trapped beneath him, Toothless just yawned with a lazy and tired expression.

When I finally calmed down and stopped fighting, the dragon threw the most elitist smirk I have ever seen.

Needless to say, my hands quickly felt black scales beneath their grip again.

Apparently, Toothless had enough. Instead of putting up with my crap, the dragon shifted his weight and laid down on top of me like some large housecat resting on the lap of its master.

Problem was, a dragon was no house cat.

Still, Toothless managed to avoid crushing me, but his weight made it so that escape would be nigh impossible.

However, something distracted me right then. Something that took my mind off what was going on. Something brown and furry, but the fur was hard and looked as if it spent most of its time battling the elements.

"Why are you…wearing my vest over your back?" I asked, the hostility in my voice replaced by a slew of confusion.

I reached out to feel the old article of clothing – to feel if that cloth were as weathered as it appeared.

A long black object came out from my peripheral vision and slapped my hand. It stung as if attacked by a bee the size of my head.

"OW," I screeched out and shook my hand rapidly like a dog playing with a limp toy.

The green grass in front of Toothless's mouth moved rapidly as the dragon let out a contented sigh.

My glare would have concerned just about any rational person. It was a stare of unbelievable rage and emotional influence. Of course, it seemingly had no effect on my scaly companion.

"You stupid dragon!" I said and hit the side of the creature in front of me with a fist.

Toothless glanced over at me and rolled his eyes. Again.

"STOP ROLLING YOUR EYES, I'M NOT AN IDIOT!" I roared at the dragon.

Little, twinkling stars in the night sky watched the two of us, well really me, bicker deep into the night. The moon danced across the sky and before long the encore was passing as the crescent glow disappeared past the horizon.

Somehow, through my cursing, arguing and love taps, I managed to fall asleep under the, now snoring, frame of Toothless. The emotional strain forced my eyes to close even though my adrenaline kept me awake long beyond what was healthy.

The tweeting of birds made my eyes snap open like a boy with his hand in the cookie jar. There was no weight on my stomach, no black-scaled chest moving up and down as its owner took calm, refreshing breaths of life. No, Toothless was instead perched up on a nearby rock watching me with a calculating expression on his face.

Glorious rays of sun bathed the clearing in mystical light and made Toothless look like a piece of timeless artwork. Somehow, I must have slept all night long.

With that discovery, I stood up as fast as I could and quickly fell to the ground as a moan of pain fluttered out of my mouth. The stress of the previous night obviously helped me ignore my injuries. Sadly, that was no longer the case, and they came back with startling clarity, itchy and throbbing, feeling far worse than I remembered the previous day.

Toothless twitched on his perch – his ears flapped down and his claws clanged against the rock in some strange melody. An uneasy frown arose on his features.

This time with more concern to my wounds, I carefully stood back up and took a minute to reorient my bearings. Out of the corner of my eye, there was a clean, clear area of the forest. The path that would lead me back to Berk.

So, I turned away from the black dragon and rushed forward as fast as my deteriorating body could manage. Of course, just like typical in my life, my foot connected with something unexpected. The rest of my body, with its haste to get away, got ahead of the delayed foot and my weight came crashing down on the forest floor.

A whine rushed out of my mouth as my tender injuries' feathers got ruffled.

Man, nothing could just go right for me.

I expected Toothless to react in someway, to laugh or roll his stupid, abomination-against-all-that-was-good green eyes.

The dragon didn't so much as twitch.

The object that tipped me drew my gaze and I looked down. It was Astrid's axe.

Pain erupted in my chest as everything started to rush back to me – the night before, the blood, Astrid. With shortened gasps for air, I closed my eyes and rushed toward Berk. There was movement in front of me, and before I could open my eyes I ran into something larger than myself.

With shock, my eyes snapped open as I bounced off the obstruction in front of me.

Beautiful, black scales adorned the object like the jewelry of a rich women.

Toothless glared at me and gestured to the axe with a wave of his head. Then he took a step forward and forced me to take one back. His expression told more than enough about his annoyance at the current situation.

I had enough. Not caring of the consequences, I rushed forward and pushed against the scales of the Night Fury. The thick, warm sensation beneath my fingers was present for only a moment and then disappeared. Toothless, for whatever reason, jumped out of my way and looked on with surprise on his face.

With little care, I simply rushed past and started my trek back to Berk. Before I left the clearing, I heard a rush of air and knew Toothless took flight. And I also knew the dragon was coming after me.

My teeth grinded on each other, and I focused on going forward, limping slightly as I moved at my current maximum velocity.

Toothless was in the air above me, hidden by the canopy of vegetation, but there nonetheless. He was most likely waiting for a good time to ambush me. But then again, with my slow and pathetic pace, such an opportunity would arise before long.

Yet, it never happened. The greens and browns of the forests continued to fall behind me as I approached Berk. There was never any sign of black scales; there was no flapping of wings or disruptions of any kind.

It wasn't until I was only a few minutes from Berk that I paused – my mouth gaping in revelation.

The area I stopped in was nothing special, but you could already smell the pungent results of last night's raid. Generally, you could tell the intensity of such events by how much your nose crinkled up. And here, even still out of the village, my nose was wrinkling up like someone who fell asleep while bathing.

That was not good.

But that was not the reason for my shock.

No, I was thinking about Toothless and the actions before. The dragon gestured to the axe. Maybe, he wanted me to return it to its owner? YES! There was no proof, well other than the blood, that Toothless actually killed Astrid, he could have just found her axe. How in the world he would have known it was Astrid's, I have no idea, but, whatever, I was finding out that dragons tended to be weird like that.

Besides, the dragon I knew, the real one, wouldn't have killed Astrid. Right?

But then again, the Toothless I thought I knew would never attack Berk.

My feet rushed forward of the own impulsion and headed into the village. I needed answers.

Smoke arose from the village, and Vikings stumbled around in pain, shock and adrenaline. The village wasn't in complete shambles, but the copious amount of wood, stone and iron scattered around like hail after a storm was very troubling. Normally, Berk contained two large towers that featured as observation areas to discover invaders both from the sea and from the air. A few days ago, one of the towers got knocked down but the other stood proud. At least, it was yesterday. Now, not so much.

I was glancing around the village when a meaty hand grabbed my left shoulder, and some strange, cold thing grabbed my right. Both of them quickly flipped me around to face the other direction.

Blue eyes met mine. The relief in the orbs was immense, looking as they barely averted their greatest fear.

"Thank Thor you're alright lad. I've been looking everywhere for you. Worried the dragons got yeah – they did seem to have something out for yeah the other day after all."

Gobber pulled me into a hug that lasted far longer than expected. I blinked and was unsure how to react. Sure, I was missing the entire night, but I never expected anyone to react like that.

"Don't worry about feeding those monsters; I know today is gonna be hard on you." Gobber said with a gentle clap on my shoulder as a melancholy glint flashed across his eyes.

My heart skipped a beat.

"But still, hope isn't lost yet, still got to find the body after all." Gobber said with pathetically small smile. He also chuckled, but it sounded very forced. "On that, I got to go, time is everythin' right now."

Gobber limped off and said, as an afterthought to himself, "Just gotta pray that some dragon isn't enjoying a snack right now."

He was gone before I found my voice to give an inquiry.

You know those feelings when everything seems to point to one thing, all logic dictates it, but you just want to scream and punch logic in the face and let your heart tell the tale?

I wandered and stumbled around town like a drunken bum. Everything was caught up in a cryptic, unfathomable haze as if time had no meaning.

Then, as if ordained by the gods, I happened upon a group of Vikings in conversation.

"Still can't believe how bad things went," a rough voice said as its owner glanced around at the devastation with green eyes.

There was nothing unique about any of the Vikings; in fact, they were a group that I usually avoided at most costs. But, here I paused and listened to them with rapt attention.

"Yeah, but the gods blessed us with that school of fish this morning, we might be able to make it through winter if the fishing goes well," the one with a large, pointy beard said.

A third Viking, one with a stubby, full-face beard replied, "Ah man, fishing sucks so much, would rather be killin'."

The first Viking, the one with green eyes, hit the man on the head with the hilt of his axe. "You kill when you fish, you dummy."

"Yeah, but I like doin' it with my hands, not some stupid piece of wood, more personal that way, yeah know?" the Viking replied. He ignored the assault on his person and puffed his chest out.

"Still, better get used to it; we're going have to fish most of the day the next few. Need to take advantage before they move on," a female, Thundereyes, added.

A wave of his hand and the short bearded Viking said, "You guys do that, I need to stay here and help the village heal." He smirked at his companions.

They all glared in response. Thundereyes, her voice screechy, said, "You're just saying that so you be lazy and look for that Hofferson girl. Everyone knows she was some dragon's dinner last night."

The pointed bearded Viking tentatively said, "We'll we haven't found the body yet."

"Because some dragon ate her! It's not complicated." Thundereyes said as she threw her arms up into the air in exasperation.

Rubbing his beard calmly, the pointy bearded Viking said, "Even if that's not true and she's not in the stomach of some monster, she was in the tower when the Night Fury shot it down so she would have fallen all that distance into the rocks at the bottom. Maybe she got lucky and landed in the sea, but if so we would have seen her by now – nah, she is as good as dead."

And just like that all the Vikings dropped into silence. The nearby groups wandering added nothing to the still and haunted air. Reality was setting in, and reality was not a good thing in this case.

The stubby Viking said, "I always knew that family did something to spurn the Gods, why else would all this tragedy be hitting 'em?"

Most of the others nodded in agreement. But, the green eyed one slammed his fist to his head and groaned.

With no heed to their companion, the rest continued on the conversation. "Yup, I'm not gonna cry over any of their misfortune – the girl died a warriors death, ain't nothing wrong with that."

At this, the greened eyed one had to blurt in. "Really, Gutbutt? Sorry, but she deserved to live; she was only a kid and a damn talented one at that. I'm going to make sure I rip off a dragon's head with my bare hands for her."

"I never said that it wasn't a shame, but there are worse ways to go. And besides I'm gonna rip off a dragon's head too, but I'm gonna do it with just my feet!" the stubby bearded Viking said with conviction and fire burning in his eyes.

Time was a mysterious thing. In some ways, it was the greatest healer in the world – there was no wound that mother time could not cure. But at the same token, those injuries only needed to be healed because of time in the first place. After all, it was inevitable that you would get hurt, mentally, physically, or emotionally. That was just part of being alive. But even so, time always granted more good than bad and for that we didn't just deal with her wicked embrace, we craved it.

Of course, this was one of those times where she snapped back with rusted and torn fangs.

It was in these moments of despair that whom you are shines through in its purest form. Maybe the darkness will crawl forth from the cracks of depression, or maybe the light with beckon in a new era. Or none of the above.

In these moments of revelation, these moments of truth, time has no depth. To some, it lasts for an eternity; to others, it lasts but a snippet.

Which is why, to my shock, I found myself in the center of the Kill Ring. My mind was blank as to why and how. But there was a group of empty baskets next to me, and the stench of fish rode the air like fresh bread out of a bakery.

Even though Toothless killed Astrid, I couldn't leave these creatures to misery and starvation. They didn't have anything to do with it – I just couldn't hate. Sure, I disliked things, and while hate was a concept I tried to embrace, like my people, it just flowed through my fingers as if I were trying to grapple mist.

Ignoring my injuries, I laid down on the cold, stony ground in the middle of the Kill Ring and watched the sky above. It was gray and cloudy – the textures of the clouds appearing like blankets in a messy bed. There was no thunder, no lightning, no rain.

I closed my eyes as a sniffle rose to my nose.

_Astrid and I were eight years old. The woods were our favorite place to play as there was such much to do. We could fight dragons, defeat our enemies and win the honor of all – in the imagery sense of course._

_"Don't worry Hiccup, we're going to change the world, you and I?" A small blond-haired figure said as she threw her arm over my shoulder._

_I rolled my eyes and said, "Yeah, like that could ever happen."_

_"Not with an attitude like that it won't." Astrid lectured with a stern look in her eyes. "Besides, if people act like wolf farts we'll just make them like it."_

_A smile appeared on my small frame. I exaggerated a sigh and then said, "Seems like a lot of work. Maybe we could just ask nicely?"_

_"Sure!" Astrid said, "But a fist in the face always makes a good second sentence."_

_We both giggled loudly, much to the annoyance of the local animal population. It took a long time to calm down as one of use kept breaking into guffaws and needed the other to hold us up. Otherwise, we would have tumbled to the ground in a mess of limbs._

_Eventually, we settled down._

_I eyed my toes and, unlike the other times, finally decided to voice my fears, the ones that I hid deep inside. "Hey, Astrid?"_

_"Yeah, stinky breath?" Astrid said as she snuck up on a butterfly that was resting peacefully on a flower._

_"It's not that bad" I protested loudly._

_Astrid paused in her quest and turned and looked at me with a leer. "HA! What did you do, eat a dragon or something? Your breath sure smells like one."_

_In response to her intellectual prowess, I belched in her face._

_"Nice Hiccup, but you need to work on your form, Tuffnut could kick your butt." She said with a shrug of her shoulders._

_I, of course, defended myself, serious thoughts long forgot in the wind._

It started to rain. Big, voluminous beads of rain fell from the sky as if the clouds themselves mourned. They doted my face, like paint from childhood mischief, and I used my sleeve to wipe my face. I scampered to my feet. My body ached and protested, but there was no room in my mind for such thoughts. Quickly, I moved over to a rack of weapons and crouched down under it to protect myself from the rain. There were no thoughts of leaving, just of getting dry – in more ways than one.

_The dragon raid was in full swing, and both Astrid and me were not allowed to participate._

_"It's so unfair, I'm nine years old! I can handle myself!" Astrid shouted at the adults._

_Instead of responding, the adults continued their conversation. Something, uninteresting, about how all the dragons that raided the village were very young because we killed so many of them that they had no time to mature._

_The two adults sat at a table and were in charge of making sure we, the kids, didn't get ourselves into trouble. Most of us just accepted this, but Astrid could never do that. She was, instead, jumping around the chairs and shouting at the adults to get their attention._

_Eventually, even she had enough and stomped over to me, with greatly exaggerated footsteps, and sat down with a grumpy expression on her face._

_She maintained it for about four seconds before throwing her hands up into the air and saying, "I can't wait to grow up so we can help the village!"_

_I couldn't meet her quizzical gaze and said, "Yeah sure – nothing like pain after a long day."_

_Two small sections of hair above her eyes shot up in surprise. She said, "What's the matter, don't you want to help? What are you some seamstress?"_

_"Hey now, I know some seamstresses that pack a serious punch." I joked back, hoping to change the subject._

_Astrid wasn't having any of it. "So what are you scared of?"_

_My gaze dropped down to my lap, and I played with one of the threads from my decaying shirt. "I'm afraid that this wont happen anymore." I said in an undertone, embarrassed._

_"What do you mean?" Astrid asked._

_"I'm afraid of growing up because we won't spend time together anymore." I practically shouted at her._

_Astrid laughed. Not just a chuckle, but a full, head-thrown-back chortle as if the greatest joke of all time were just uttered._

_"Hiccup, that's the dumbest thing I have ever heard." She managed to choke out between her fits of mirth. "Why in Freya's name would we stop hanging out? We're good friends!"_

_I looked back into my lap and started to pick at the lace in my boot. "I duuno," I shrugged, "just a feeling or something."_

_A thump came in contact with my head, and I let out an exclamation of surprise and looked up._

_Astrid watched me with light fury burning in her eyes. It reminded me of Mom. "Idiot, no matter what happens we'll still hang out – it's what we do."_

_"Promise?" It was pathetic, and I knew it, but I asked it anyway._

_A small sigh came from Astrid's cute lips. "Really Hiccup, why so-"_

_"Please." I asked desperately almost like the plea of a dying man's final wish._

_Blue eyes watched me for a long time. The clashes and clatter of battle rang loudly around us, but they felt muted as if the gods applied some strange filter over them. Finally, she spoke, "Hiccup, we'll always be together, I promise."_

_The scene in my mind quickly changed._

_I was so excited to show Astrid something I found in the woods._

_"Hey Astrid, want to-" I rattled off as I found her._

_She waved me off and said, "Just give me a minute."_

_I turned ten.  
_

_Another raid from our dragon neighbors was underway. Again, Astrid and me sat and waited.  
_

_She hit the palm of her left hand with her right first and said, "Man I can't wait until I'm older and can kick some dragon butt." Her voice was practically a growl and she threw looks of loathing at the dragons visible in the windows.  
_

_I didn't miss the lack of we in her statement._

_Eleven._

_"So what did you think about-" I tried to ask Astrid._

_Astrid's voice was harsh and annoyed. "Hiccup, don't you think it's time to grow up?"_

_Twelve._

_Finally, one day I approached her house and knocked on the door. The thud radiated through the small corner of the village with absolute authority._

_A blond-haired, blue-eyed Viking answered the door. She blinked and looked at me._

_I cheerfully said, "Hey, what's up Astrid I was wondering if you wanted to-"_

_"Nope, I got training to do." Her voice was flat, emotionless – that childhood mirth, curiosity, and intelligence hiding behind a mask of indifference._

_She slammed the door shut in my face with a reverberating smash. That sound would ring in my ears for a long time._

Only one single tear rolled down my cheek.

And into the crispy, wintry late afternoon, I said but four little words, "I'll miss you Astrid."

I shivered uncontrollably and looked around. There was a white covering of snow in the Kill Ring – the whiteness devouring all the color and life from the world and creating a barren wasteland, one that mirrored my mood perfectly. It didn't help that I spent so much time reflecting that light of day was already disappearing into dark of night.

There shouldn't be any snow. It was, way to early for it to happen. Way, WAY too early. Not for another month at least – this was insanity.

But it was also reality. I shivered again and broke down into a series of coughs. My toes and fingers were freezing in the cold, whispery, dying afternoon.

Quickly, I crawled out from under the rack and stood. Much to my surprise, gray eyes matched my stare from right in front of me.

Perched on the rack of weapons was a large, black bird. Its feather's glistened and shined beautifully as the avian animal stared right at me. The snow landed on the creature and rolled off as if it were ethereal.

It was a raven.

The bird's eyes contained a breadth of knowledge and power that was exhilarating. But after only a few seconds, the large black wingspan opened up and the bird took to the air.

Shockingly, the black feathers disappeared into the white blizzard faster than I would have thought possible. Was it just an illusion then? Or had Odin just given me a message? He was believed to have some affinity to the black birds.

Maybe, but now was not a time to think about that.

The sheets of snow that obscured my vision and froze my skin to its bones was far more concerning.

Quickly, I moved toward the entrance of the Kill Ring. My footprints dotting the snow, not in a smooth clear pattern, but dispersed irrationally due to my delirious mind.

My feet turned blue, and my fingers were not far behind. I was freezing and needed heat immediately.

So naturally, it was not a surprise that the gate to the Kill Ring was closed. I used my back to try to lift it, but, even with fighting through the pain, I was still unable to move the gate. Quickly, I grabbed a long weapon and tried to prop it open using the leverage. The large iron barely even quivered.

I kneeled down and felt the edges of the gate. Smooth, whitish-blue ice mashed the iron and stone together as one. There was no way I was getting out of there.

My fingers found themselves in my armpits, and I flinched from the cold seeping into my body.

I couldn't go out the entrance, had no hope of climbing up the edge; and the chances of anyone being around to hear me shout were minimal. There was only one way I could think of to survive the night. I needed heat and no heat source of any kind existed out in the central area. But, there were the dragons; they basically emanated heat, and there was hay in the prisons.

My inspection of all the levers revealed that only one was moveable. I could release it, and the lock on Cheek's flap would release. Then I could crawl in and, if the dragon didn't roast me, I would theoretically live.

An arctic wind blasted me and made me drop to the ground in its fury. It was far too cold; I wouldn't survive long out here. More coughs came from my mouth. Eventually, I took a deep, chilling breath and a shiver ran down my spine.

I marched over and took hold of the lever. With considerable effort, it came free and opened the small hatch that led to the dragon.

My knees collided with the ground, and I started to cautiously move toward the opening.

Would the dragon attack? Or would it not? A day ago I would have said no, but after Toothless...

I was about to find out.

* * *

AN: Poor Astrid. Beautiful twist if I say so myself, although I suspect I just lost about half of my viewer base... Of course, if you have a problem with what I did here please let me know, I would love to bask in your tears of anger. I'm only being half serious there. Reviews, PMs or not I'm sure some of you are sputtering in rage and opting to never touch this story again.

On a much more important note, I'm not sure the update will be ready by next week. I have been sick and editing is the bane of my existence at the moment. So, I will try, but do not expect it next Friday, Saturday is much more likely. If not, there will definitely be a chapter up the following week.

Would you, the readers, enjoy me continuing these author notes at the end? I prefer not to do so as I feel they clutter up the work and make it feel superficial. But if you would like to hear from me, I can probably make something work. Never at the start though, I hate that so much and only do it when I really want notes to be read.


	12. Huginn and Muninn

**Lightning Always Strikes Twice**

* * *

Chapter 10: Huginn and Muninn

_"Peel away the layers and glance beneath the lies for there is always more to it than meets the eyes."_

* * *

Snow.

White, pristine, perfect snow. Honestly, I loved the stuff – it was amazing just how distracted you could get with the fluffy white moisture. It was like having an open canvas to draw upon, the world was yours to manipulate and design.

But snow this early was strange – a month before the normal occurrence. In Berk, snow, while many a favorite, equated death. The green stems and leaves of our crop would droop down as if all hope met a tragic fate. And in a way, it truly had.

And that meant Berk, already in supply trouble due to our considerate neighbors, was in even bigger trouble.

Still, while that was interesting, there were bigger fish to fry.

See, I was stuck out in the blizzard, which, normally, would not have been a big problem. Of course, normally, I wouldn't be stuck in the Kill Ring at the same time.

A frigid wind blasted across the pit and I quivered like a squirming fish looking for water. Even kneeled down in the ground, the harsh elements still took their toll. My teeth chattered and rang in my head like the galloping hooves of a horse.

Wise people, in such a situation, would find a way out of the cold as soon as possible. But then again, wise people didn't put all their trust into a wild dragon; a dragon that I didn't know, unlike Toothless and look what he did. It was like jumping off a cliff blind. You could splat on the rocks with a disgusting crack as your existence ended. Or, you could land in crisp, shockingly cold water that refreshed your existence with an explosion of adrenaline.

Really, why were all the other doors stuck? The Terror, Gronckle, or Naddar would have all been far preferable to a Nightmare.

But sometimes fate was just a bit too rough, and you had to take a punch to the gut.

A white cloud of mist expelled out of my mouth. After the breath, my teeth fell silent and unmoving – the chatter absent like sanity in a madhouse.

And that, more than anything else, kicked my rear into gear.

The inside of the cell was pitch black – darker than the forest at midnight. It was a hole of dreary, festering pessimism where only cruel and nefarious acts could entertain your mind.

Rancid and foul scents did nothing to help the décor of the area either.

With shocking haste, far faster than I would have liked, I completely entered the cell and let the flap fall close.

The last speckles of light grew weaker as the flap swung back and forth with each swing resulting in reduced hope.

Finally, the flap came to a rest, not with a sound, but that, if anything, just made it worse. The darkness was so absolute that I would have sworn I could feel it touching me like a swarm of bugs crawling and infesting every pore, surface and crevice.

Suddenly, as if the nature herself were present, my hair lightly blew back due to an unknown force. Something very large was sniffing me. It was terrifying knowing it was there, hearing it, smelling it, but being blind, even when it was right in front of you.

My heart accelerated. The beats followed a melody of chaos, one that, I hoped, would not end in a spectacular climax.

A gasp of surprise rocketed out of my mouth and filled the unmoving silence like the snores of a Viking ripping through the calm afternoon air. Cold stone met my back, and I crumpled down on the ground.

The dragon shifted, its large form moving around in a way that made the space feel extremely claustrophobic.

My teeth started to chatter again, and my heart fell into sync with the rapid noise.

Then my heart stopped cold and my body froze as if dipped in icy water.

A powerful, rough voice as if it were a cross between a growl and a roar filled the narrow space with authority that rattled my very soul. "Do you squish every bug you meet? If not, why are you afraid?" it said.

It was the most absurdly stupid thing I could have imagined. So, naturally I responded as appropriate.

No hand was going to stop my laughter from erupting out of my mouth in explosive fashion. Of course, the clatter of my teeth, nor the shaking of my frame, helped my mirth. Instead, it was more as if I were in spasm and making some very strange noises that no intelligent creature could have recognized.

I didn't eventually calm down. No, it came as sudden as a dragon raid, instantaneous. One moment, I was wiggling and trying to contain myself in the dark abyss and the next I was frozen – even the clatter of my teeth absent.

The voice was familiar. I had definitely heard it before.

"That's impossible." I said, not aware that I voiced it out loud.

A snort pushed the bang of my hair back again. The voice answered, "A long time, I have spent with your kind in this place. Is it really such a surprise?"

Surprise! It was not a surprise. It was completely ridiculous. There was no way that the dragon could talk. It would have a long time ago; it wouldn't have waited till now. A taunt, a barb, something at some time would have slipped.

There was only one answer. I was officially insane. And because I was insane, I did the only thing that made any sense. I answered back.

"Yeah, a dragon speaking is just, you know, a tad bit surprising as we have never heard any such thing. You would think we would notice the curses that bellow from your lips as you try to rip us apart. We've only been fighting for a _few_ generations after all."

A slow, rumbling sound filled the cell and caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up. The sound was infuriating and made me want to wipe the stupid grin off the beast's face. I couldn't see it, but I knew it was there.

"My, what a simple creature you are," the dragon said with a lighter edge on its voice.

Shifting sideways along the wall, my searching hands came into contact with something compressible and itchy. Grabbing some of the material, I rubbed it in-between my thumb and finger. It was long, rough and shaped as if it were grass.

"Yup, the most simple creature in the world, that's me all right. I mean humans are so basic with their houses, ironworks and ships. We could never be as intrinsic or brilliant as our dragon overlords." I said with the biting sarcasm of an old, grumpy man.

Perhaps I should have been more cautious – this was a dragon that could easy kill me. But the scene was so ludicrous that I couldn't help the snarky tone. It just came out.

Nothing happened for a while, and I took the time to bury myself in the hay to get as warm as possible.

After a considerable amount of time passed, the dragon's voice cut into the darkness, "You know nothing of my kind."

"And that is where you are wrong. I do know one thing." I paused for dramatic effect. "Dragons. Do. Not. Speak."

"You know nothing of my kind." It was possible to practically taste the smugness radiating off the dragon in the darkness like some thick, pollutant plague.

And just what in the world did Cheeks mean by that? Dragons could not speak, did not speak.

With hesitation slowing my words, I asked, "So if that's the case, why doesn't Toothless speech?"

"Toothless?" the voice was still thick and powerful but there was a lighter tint of curiosity beneath the rumbling vocals.

I rolled my eyes in the dark. Of course, in the dark the dragon couldn't see but it was the thought that counted. "The Night Fury." I stated as if I were talking to a baby.

Cheeks voice dropped in pitch, and it asked as if trying to deduce the answer itself, "Night Fury?"

If the dragon could, hypothetically of course, understand speech why did it not know what a Night Fury was?

"A black dragon that soars across the sky and, with a screech, makes things go boom," I said. I wanted to wave my arms animatedly to assist my point, but with the dark and the cold, it was more important to try to keep my warmth. The hay was not working as optimally as hoped for.

Recognition flooded the dragons voice like water after a downpour. "Oh, Aldri Ljós"

What in the world?

"Yeah sure." I answered hesitantly.

That smug tint was back in Cheeks voice. "You are talking about the dragon that alerted your kind that night, yes?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

The dragon didn't answer.

Well, that night could mean any night, but since the dragon mentioned me it must have been the night he and I interacted in the Kill Ring. There was no other night that I could recall spending with this dragon. The 'your kind' obviously meant humans, but there was no dragon that alerted them. The idea of a dragon doing so was beyond folly. The only other dragon that night was Toothless when he…when he shot the ground with his fire and hit nothing.

And if there were one thing about Night Fury attacks, other than their accuracy. They made a lot of noise.

"A Night Fury never misses." I whispered, shocked by the knowledge.

A rush of air made the pile of hay I was in shake like a tree in a hurricane. The accompanied sound was rough and from the nostrils.

"Narrow thought, but Aldri Ljós are quite talented." There was a growl on the edge of the dragons tongue as if uttering such words were painful or degrading.

Time passed, and it was becoming more and more apparent that this was not some insanity-induced dream or hallucination. But that, if anything, just raised so many more question than answers it was not funny, regardless of the god's inevitable enjoyment at my predicament.

"So, if you can talk, why is it you have never said anything before?" I asked Cheeks, and would be lying if there were not curiosity blossoming in my voice like a bed of well-nourished flowers in spring.

It took a while for the rumbling, intimidating voice to answer. In the mean time, I subconsciously started to shift through the hay in attempts to find more warmth.

"A wise bird doesn't show his best trick when he is caged."

Suddenly, as if Odin himself possessed me, I released just what was in front…well somewhere around me in the darkness. A dragon sure, but that was obvious and quite unimportant.

"You know everything." I said with excitement.

The dragon snorted.

"No really, you know why the dragons raid Berk. You could tell us how to stop it. You could tell us where the nest is." I said in an exasperated frenzy as if the answers I sought would disappear if I didn't hurry.

"That is true," the dragon said carefully.

"Exactly, this is perfect! You have all the answers, everything that has been driving me crazier than a dog with fleas, you know. All you have to do is tell me. Like, for example, why did Toothless, the Aldri Lio-thingy, kill Astrid?"

Again, it took the dragon a long time to answer. He did, however, mumble out a whispered, "Pathetic," under his breath, but his deafening nature made it easy to hear. Eventually, he answered with a huff and confidence dripping off his words like water from a melting icicle. "I will not help you."

"Huh?" I intelligently asked, "Why?"

The dragon's voice grew in hostility, and it said, "Learn to stand on your own four feet."

I blinked. Not that it made any difference, visually, but I could at least feel my eyelashes close.

"Well, that might be difficult, seeing as I have a total of two." I said in jest, hoping the dragon would elaborate. Honestly, I didn't even think what would happen if my comments or sarcasm enraged the creature. I simply did what came to mind.

The only sound in the cold, nightmarish cell was the heavy heaves of a large dragon's breathing.

"Come on, you have the answers," I said as I removed my hands from my chest and gave a begging gesture toward the location of the breathing with little bits of hay falling of me inaudibly. "Just this once, all you have to do is-"

No matter what I said or what I did, the dragon did not respond. Instead, it acted as if tired of our conversation.

However, right when I sighed and decided to take a different approach, the dragon said something.

"I fear for Huginn, that he come not back, yet more anxious am I for Muninn." Cheek's harsh voice whispered out in a hollowed mystique as if the creature were caught up in long-lost memory.

Odin was well-known for having two ravens: Huginn and Muninn were their names. We believed that the god sent them out to survey his lands and take stock in the events and occurrences of the era. Many young Vikings developed an unhealthy fear of black-feathered birds since they could relay your transgressions and misdemeanors to the gods and bring the rage of their ethereal glory and power crashing down on you.

That was all and well, part of a tale told to the child Viking, but how in all that was holy would a dragon hear about that. Especially one that apparently learned everything it knew from humans due to its time as a guest in the Kill Ring. That story was not something that would be voiced in such a vile place.

"How in the world could you know that?" I asked with calculating confusion.

Another rush of air ruffled my hair as the dragon sighed. "That is not the question. No, what should be asked is who Huginn and Muninn are."

My brow shot up into the air, and I said, "They're ravens."

This time, the dragon's sigh mixed with a bit of a growl, and it created a strange and slightly frightening sound. After a moment, the large, winged animal said, "Peel away the layers and glance beneath the lies for there is always more to it than meets the eyes."

And with that, the dragon fell quiet.

I tried everything I could to get the dragon to say something that wasn't a riddle. To make things clearer and not spread mud on the already dirty surface. Naturally, after what felt like an hour, when I finally got the dragon to respond again, it did the opposite.

"White and sticky a web was wound.

A cute little fly trapped and bound.

The spider wrapped her web around.

Soon it was, death would be found."

The voice of Cheeks was much sweeter if such could be said of a raspy, deep voice. Still, it was almost singsong and beautiful in its own fallible way.

"Why thank you, that clears up everything. How considerate of you," I said.

Cheeks responded to my sarcasm, "It should, my kind hold it in high regard. The translation…yes, that is the word, right?" I nodded toward the dragon. "The translation is a bit...wrong."

Did the dragon see me nod my head in affirmative? Could it really see in this suffocating darkness? I honestly wasn't sure, but the thought did make my stomach quiver. The idea that I was even more helpless in its presence was not a good feeling.

"I hate you." I said without thinking.

Rumbling, hearty noise came from deep within the dragon's throat.

Thankfully, my shivering died all the way down – the hay, while not the best insulation, was at least keeping me warm. The thick stone walls were doing a good job as well.

I tried a bit more to coax answers out of the large red dragon, but the only noise it made was the heavy intake and outtake of breath.

Eventually, my eyelids became too heavy, and I closed them for just a second.

_Everything was hazy, an indistinguishable blur. Well, everything save one thing. There, standing in the middle of my vision, was a young Viking. A mop of brown hair adorned his head. And thick, leather-crafted armor covered his frail body. But most shocking of all was the conviction in his eyes. The resolve was contagious and demanding – powerful._

_He looked just like me._

_With a look over his shoulder, the doppelgänger said, "The truth is, lightning always strikes twice."_

_The lookalike brought his knife down onto-_

A horn blasted through the air - startlingly loud to my ears considering I was behind almost a foot of stone.

I rolled out of the hay and hit something.

The light of the morning was shining through the cracks of the door and created a sense of hope and prosperity. Somehow, I slept through the entire night. Thankfully, the dragon hadn't deemed me a tasty snack to gobble up as I slept. That would have been, unfortunate.

Quickly, my gaze snapped upward to see what object obstructed my movement.

A silhouette of light surrounded the dragon that just watched me with narrowed, calculating eyes. The imagery was creepy and I found myself taking a step away from the large animal.

Large, sharp and deadly white teeth appeared as Cheeks opened his maw. "The spider is closing in, little fly," he said.

That was the last straw. With speed that would have made a Night Fury envious, I forced the small flap of the cell open and stumbled out into the morning light.

I gasped in pain and forced my eyes shut. The light from the powerful sun reflected off the snow, which hurt much more so than I would like to admit. Thankfully, the rays were doing a good job of melting the snow. Already, the amount of white fluffy stuff was substantially decreased.

Again, a horn blared through the air.

I knew exactly what it represented. We Vikings liked to use horns and other tools to easily tell each other when significant events occurred. And this one was a homecoming of sorts.

Dad was back from his hunt to find the dragons' lair.

For a moment, I played with the temptation to go and see him. But then I remembered: the last raid, the snow, Astrid, the likelihood that the raid failed and decided that it was best to avoid Dad for the time being. Let his rage stew in the pot a bit – it was currently boiling and too hot for consumption.

Still, that didn't mean I had any intention of remaining in the Kill Ring. Honestly, my escape was embarrassingly easy after my failure the day before. The sun melted the ice near the gate, and I was able to pry it open with a nearby weapon.

I entered the village and had no idea where I was going. I just wanted to get away from that stupid dragon and his confounding, suffocating personality. The village itself was unexpected. Normally, after a hunt concluded the ambiance was that of cheer. People, would talk about the failure of the raid in disgusted tones and harsh expressions, but that was always just a front. The Vikings, as much as they wanted to act tough, were just happy that their kin arrived home without tragedy.

Perhaps everyone was just worried about telling Dad what happened last night. He would be furious when told of the raid.

Then again, maybe the answer was something more sinister.

My head collided with something hard, and I fell to the ground in agony. Gripping my head in my hands, the throbbing pulsed through my fingers like the beating of a heart; I glared up at whatever ran into me.

Lofnhieor, the village's apprentice healer watched me with an amused expression dancing on her face.

Where in the world had she come from?

"You really should watch your step." She said and offered me a hand.

I took it, and she lifted me to my feet with a surprising amount of strength.

"Sorry." I mumbled and started to move around her. It was then that I noticed her mouth moving, but I was deliberately ignoring her. Why was she so invisible? It was the strangest thing – it made me uncomfortable around her.

"-your friend?"

I managed to pick up the end of her speech. A blank look resonated on my face.

Brown eyes twinkled, and she repeated, "I asked if you were here to see your friend?"

Friend? What in the world was she talking about? Quickly, my gaze moved around to the area, and I felt my heart catch in my throat. There was a small wooden hut nestled up against the mountains. It was the dreaded healers cottage.

Oh no, first Astrid's death, and now someone else was hurt. What in the world happened?

I moved, tentatively, yet with purpose, toward the healer's door.

"It happens all the time during a raid." Lofnhieor was saying, "someone just leaves Vikings in need of medical attention and disappears into the wind. The fortune of the gods, I suppose."

"Wait," I stopped and turned around, "say that again."

Lofnhieor eyed me with a strange glint in her eyes and a small tilt of her head. After a moment, she acquitted and said, "Years ago, I was sitting in this very hut as a dragon raid progressed. Even as a young adult, I was forbidden to participate in the raids – no specific reason, it was just the way things were. But that night, this strange ripping sound, as if a cat were clawing, came from the front door."

Instinctively, my gaze wandered to the door of the healers hut. And there, engraved as if it were some art that no one could comprehend, was a horde of indentations in the wooden door. It looked as if something attacked its surface.

"My first guess was that it was a dragon, and I prepared the best I could. With spear in hand, I flung the door open to greet my foe. Instead of a monster, there was a man – bleeding, unconscious and dying." She chuckled.

Just what in the world was funny about that?

I reached out and felt the wood of the door beneath my fingers. It was frayed and torn up, so it was obviously aged. There were even cuts overlapping cuts overlapping cuts which almost guaranteed that some of the defacement must have been old. Why I never noticed before, I had no idea.

She continued, "Well, it definitely wasn't a dragon. A dragon would have gobbled up the helpless lad. For a long time, I just thought that he scratched the door with his axe before he collapsed.

A hand with an obnoxious amount of tactless jewelry rose to rub her chin. After a moment, Lofnhieor continued in her tale.

"The village freaked out, thought he was dead – no one just thought to ask me. Of course, when he woke up he was completely delirious, asked if I were Freya if you would believe it, but claimed that he never remembered getting here. All he remembered was the blackness of death.

"Soon after, it happened again. The next raid something scratched on the door and lo and behold, another victim was brought before me. I tried to figure out whom it was, but even in the dozens of times it has happened thereafter, I have never caught so much as a glimpse of the hero. Either its some shy Viking, or the gods are helping us with our pests. I just don't understand why they feel the need to scratch the door; knocking would be just as, if not more, efficient." Lofnhieor concluded.

Something caught in my throat, and I took a minute before I responded to her story.

"Why have I never heard of this?" I asked.

Lofnhieor shrugged and said nonchalantly, "No one ever asks me anything, so it's really no surprise. Maybe a half-dozen or so have stayed long enough to listen. And they did not nearly have the ears you did."

But my attention was no longer on her words. It was instead drawn to something in the dirt. Quickly, my hand shot down and, with a wipe of my thumb, cleaned the strange little object.

Small, black and beautiful, it was a scale that seemed to reflect no light. The object was innately familiar – the smooth feeling, the purity of color. I knew exactly what this was.

"Oh there it is!" Lofnhieor said in excitement and nabbed the object from my casual grip. "The savior always leaves this little scales, but I didn't see one the other day. For a moment, I was wondering if it were someone else."

"What is it?" I choked out with difficulty – I already knew what it was, I just wondered if she did as well.

"A scale of some kind. Definitely not a dragon – I've never seen a dragon scale like this before; maybe some type of snake or something? I don't know," she shrugged, "I just view it as symbolic."

I nodded my head slowly. My thoughts were running faster than I could ever remember them going before and, by the look of things, they had no intention of taking a breather anytime soon.

"Anyway I got to get back to work." Lofnhieor said with a petite smile. "Thanks for listening."

She opened the door, and I glanced in after her. My heart completely froze, and my eyes grew to the size of dinner plates.

Just behind the beautiful Lofnhieor was a bed. And in that bed was a teenage, blond-haired, blue-eyed Viking.

Her chest was moving up and down in shallow, periodic waves.

* * *

Author Notes (Some minor spoilers):

Sorry for the short chapter. I decided to break up the next chapter into two parts as I thought this ended at a really good spot. Because of this, there will likely be a chapter next week - but it is finals and I am extremely busy so don't be too disappointed if it does not come.

The decision to make Cheeks speak was one that I played with for a long time. I really didn't want to do it due to how AU it made the story feel, but it really does have a point to play in the plot. And to me, plot is king. So, I made the dragon speak. I was going to have Toothless do so originally, but I felt that part of what made their relationship so special was the lack of spoken word. So, as you can deduce, the dragons will not all start speaking and whatnot. The only one is Checks and there is a good reason for it.

However, do not fear that Cheeks is going to be some major character. He was created with the intentions of developing the other characters and pushing the plot forward. He is NOT a main character. So if you have some fear that Hiccup and Toothless will not reunite, it's completely unfounded. This holds true for almost ever OC I make, they are there to assist - such as Lofnhieor - not to lead.

That said, if you hate the change, let me know. There is no amount of feedback that can get me to change this chapter - the story is already written, but it is nice to hear what you hated so that I can analyze and think about it for new stories. Of course, don't feel obligated, but it does help.

A cool little tidbit - the words Aldri Ljós mean 'never light' in old norse. I liked the irony of Hiccup not being able to understand what should be his own language.


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